


What's in a name?

by Sailingdreameater



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Attempt at Humor, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Failed Miserably, I felt sorry for the nogitsune, M/M, No Smut, Rare Pairings, Sadly, Season 3 feels, tried to keep it as canon as possible
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:28:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 26,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24622396
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sailingdreameater/pseuds/Sailingdreameater
Summary: When they came out of the surrogate sacrificing, Stiles never knew he'd have a lot more on his plate and hardly any time to breathe. Blacking out, nightmares, insomnia and with a light peppering of irritation, Stiles would just chalk it up to the sacrifice. Well, he would if he wasn't such a paranoid bastard.Which begged the question. Was this all in his head or was this just the monster of the week? Whatever it may be, why did he feel this odd sense of deja vu?In which, I pitied the Nogitsune but wanted to try sticking to canon as far as possible. Also wanted more actual Japanese lore added in. Can you identify the weeb in me?
Relationships: Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Nogitsune/Stiles Stilinski, Scott McCall/Kira Yukimura
Comments: 6
Kudos: 130





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guy! This is my first fic in a while and the first in this fandom.  
> I hope you like this as much as i did while writing it!

_ PROLOGUE _

“Mischief, come with me,” his mother called out with a hand outstretched. The little boy in question runs up to hold his mother’s hand.

They walk hand in hand out into the forest that surrounds Beacon Hills.

“Mom? Where are we going?” Mischief had been worried for a while now for his mother. The illness had begun taking its toll on her mind. What hurt the most were the times when she forgot Mischief was her son. At times she’d look at him curiously with a smile and ask him who he was. The worst were the times when she’d nervously move away from him like he was a threat to her. But mostly, she simply forgot simple things like her keys to the jeep or to have her lunch.

Today, she looked down at him with a smile and everything seemed right with the world.

“We’re going for a walk,” she exclaimed chirpily. “It’s too boring being cooped up at home all the time, you know?” Mischief smiled back ignoring the alarms that were going off in his head, ignoring the logical part of his brain that told him his mother should just take rest at home.

‘It’ll be fine,’ he told himself as they roamed the forest. It was nice. School was a little too hard and a little too boring for him to focus on. It seemed like the teachers were out to get him at every turn. “A trouble maker,” they called him. Heather wouldn’t talk to him much anymore. Scott had his own problems to deal with even if he wouldn’t say it. Besides, Mischief hadn’t spent quality time with his mother since she had quit work because of the sickness.

“I found it again!” Turning, Mischief saw his mother looking intently on a large tree stump. Particularly, she eyed the wooden doors on the ground next to it with, funnily enough, mischief in her eyes. She turned to grin at Mischief with a glint in her eyes. Mischief was again reminded of the times when he and his mother pranked his father. It was bad enough when it was just Mischief, but it was really fun when he tagged teamed with his mother.

It made him regain a spark of hope. Perhaps his mother would get better.

“Mischief, you know Dad’s coming home early today. Let’s pull a prank on him!”

“What prank?”

“Hm,” his mother drawled with a smirk. “Let’s play hide and seek.” Saying this, she opened the heavy wooden doors and ushered him to follow. Hesitantly, Mischief followed.

The insides were like an old room. The only light that shone was from the sunlight streaming from the open door. It wouldn’t last long because of the slowly setting sun. The room looked like it was used regularly once. But now, it laid abandoned. At the far end of the room was a thicket of roots from the large stump above. The roots being so thick and all encompassing, it made up the wall on that side.

“Let’s hide here and wait for Dad to find us.” With that, panic bubbled up inside Mischief. Pranks were fine, but his mother wasn’t in the best shape to carry out tricky pranks like this. They were in the middle of  a forest !

“Mom, I don’t think this is a good idea. I’m scared,” Mischief replied shakily. He looked down nervously at his fingers, playing with them. His mother puts a hand on his head and he looks up at her, his tongue peeking out now and again as a nervous habit. She ruffled his hair and smiled down at him.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m here by your side.”

Just like that, he felt safe again. They sat down with their backs to the roots.

“Dad would  flip, wouldn’t he?” Mischief asked with a slight nervous giggle, his fingers fiddling with his mother’s shirt. His mother laughed, hugging his head close to her chest. “How- how would he know how to find us? Where to find us?”

“Oh, damn it,” his mother exclaimed as she moved to get up. “I forgot to leave him a message for when he gets back. He wouldn’t know we went to the woods.”

“Then let’s go back,” Mischief says as he gets up but his mother stops him.

“Nah,” she drawls, “I’ll run and leave him a note. Wait for me here, sweetie.”

“No! Mom, don’t leave me here alone,” he begged as fear gripped his heart. The sun was soon to set and if he stayed here till then-

His mother clasped his cheeks in her hands and smiled, her face warm and full of that fuzzy feeling you’d normally feel sometimes.

“Don’t worry, my baby. I’ll be right back. Close your eyes if you’re scared and I'd be back before you know it.”

“Okay,” he agreed slowly and closed his eyes.

He heard a thud and feared the doors were closed as the light behind his eyelids faded to nothing yet he dared not open his eyes.

Hours passed as Mischief’s fear bubbled back up again. Did his mother forget? It was extremely likely, his gut told him.

He ran forward, tripping and groping as he finally reached the doors. Tears spilled out as his worst fear was confirmed. Being as weak as he was, not to mention the doors being heavy, old and  rusted, wouldn’t budge.

“Mom!” He yelled repeatedly to no avail.

His stomach growled. It must be dinner time. He kept banging at the doors till his hands hurt too much and his throat became sore.

As a cold breeze passed by through a small draft, he shivered and went back, groping in the dark to the roots. As the room grew colder, he hid between the roots. He closed his eyes hoping for the day to end. He hoped his father would find him. Being the county Sheriff had its benefits, he supposed.

Just as he was close to drifting off into sleep, he heard a voice.

“ Yo , boya.’

\--------------------------------------------------

Noah Stilinski comes back late in the night only to find his beautiful wife smiling gayly at him. His heart skips a beat as he falls in love with her all over again. He kisses her and makes his way into the house and into her open arms. It was warm inside the house.

He hummed in satisfaction. “It’s good to be home,” he sighs out with a smile and walks into the dining room, out of his wife’s warm embrace. He looks at the food laid out on the table for two people waiting and felt love once more.

“Is Mieczyslaw in bed already.” he asked with a chuckle. He was worried for him lately. ‘It’s probably hard on him,’ he thinks. He had taken it upon himself to look after Claudia when Noah wasn’t around. At his age, he should only be thinking of school or friends. Instead he had to grow up too soon what with the news of knowing his mother will most probably- He doesn’t want to think about it.

He turned to look at his wife frown, confused. Something wasn’t right. 

“Mieczyslaw,” he begins slowly, cautiously, “is in bed, right?”

“Noah,” Claudia began hesitantly, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“Where is he?”

The fear clutched his throat at the thought of what might’ve happened to his son. He runs  up to his room only to find it empty.

“Mieczyslaw,” he yells as he runs around the house looking for him.

‘Oh God!’ He prays as he realizes his son was too young for all this. Too young to deal with a terminally ill mother. Too young to look after her when he couldn’t. Too young to grow up so fast. Too young.  _ Just too young. _ He didn’t know where he even was much less if he was conscious. Was he conscious? He couldn’t sleep without his pillow. Where was he? It was cold outside. What if he became hypothermic? ‘It’s all my fault,’ he thought as he clutched his head.

“Mischief,” he calls out again and looks back to see his wife confused. He stalks back to her and grips her shoulder.

“Claudia, baby, I need to know where our son is.”

“Noah,” she began, worried,  “we don’t have a son.”

Noah tightens the grip on his wife’s shoulder before letting her go, tired and anxious. He knew it wasn’t her fault. He knew Mischief was stronger and more mature for any kid his age. After all, he was the one who decided to take care of his mother whenever he couldn’t.

He was always stronger than Noah could ever be, weak as he may seem.

Just as he brushed away his wife’s touch, he noticed Claudia’s boots near the entrance, trailing mud and a few leaves. He had learnt enough from Mieczyslaw and Claudia’s pranks to look carefully for clues. 

He immediately notified all on duty officers to search the forest for the missing boy and promptly stormed off.

It was past midnight and there were no signs of Mieczyslaw anywhere. Dispatch didn’t make headway. Noah was at the point of giving up but the thought hurt too much. 

“Mischief!”

It was a last-ditch effort as he searched the area with his torch. There was a case long back of wild coyotes killing a man’s whole family and the thought that this was some odd karma loomed over him like a dark cloud.

It was then that he noticed something that looked like a fox. A small little thing that was mostly white with tufts of black fur here and there. It watched him carefully before walking slowly away. Noah didn’t know why he decided to follow it but as he did, he found his son curled up on top of a large tree stump that he was sure wasn’t there a few seconds ago. He ran up to him, sighing in relief to find him peacefully sleeping. No signs of hypothermia.

Mieczyslaw Stilinski was found at 3:08 AM and his father swore it was because of an  odd-looking fox.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later, Mischief lied through his teeth that he had wandered there himself to try and persuade his father that his mother had nothing to do with it. Noah was having none of it. He finally got away with it after he promised his father that he’d be with either Scott or Heather when Noah wasn’t at home for the most part. He knew Melissa would take any chance to push Scott out of Rafael’s way. Not to mention Scott loved staying over with Stiles. Heather was happy to help out and so was her mother, knowing the issue regarding Claudia.

A few days later Mischief looked up to his father during dinner. Claudia had to stay back in the hospital for her  check-up leaving father and son at home together.

“Dad,” he began, his mouth full. Noah hummed back in question. “I’ve decided.”

“You have?” Mischief nodded.

“Stiles.” His dad frowned, shoving another mouthful of food. He didn’t particularly like that name after far too many bad memories.

“Are you sure?” He asked knowing in the  end, it was his son’s decision.

“Yeah. Call me Stiles.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Boya - little boy
> 
> I hope you liked the chapter!


	2. Sacrifices

“ _ Yo _ _ boya,” a voice drawled. The voice was playful, lilting, mocking even. It had a strange silence behind it. A silence that held secrets and thoughts that would never see the light of day. A silence that showed years of mental discipline. The voice belonging, Stiles was sure, to a person entirely different from Stiles himself. _

_ Caught between the roots of an unknown tree, he couldn’t place the voice. He turned to find himself back at the point where he had dragged his best friend into the woods to find the dead body. Ran to find his father looking at him with a glare and surrounded by other officers. _

The ritual led all of them to the same conclusion. They were all near the  Nemeton on the same night. The same night Stiles and Scott went to find a dead body in the woods. The same night Scott was bitten. The same night Allison’s mother almost ran over Scott and she ran searching for him only to find his asthma inhaler. The night when Stiles pulled his friend into his schemes and got caught in the world of the supernatural. The day everything changed forever. 

It was a race against time. With their parents caught in the  Darach’s trap, Stiles had to take his jeep, stepping on the accelerator never stopping. The wind howled and the storm pushed at everything in its path. The jeep, as heavy as it was, also under its control. No sooner did another storm blow, Stiles lost control of the Jeep, crashing into a nearby tree. He promptly lost consciousness.

“ _ Mischief,”  _ a voice called. It sounded like someone he knew. A voice he knew very well. “ _ Mischief, you can’t fall asleep yet.” _

Stiles vaguely remembered the last time he was in a crash. His mother behind the wheel and his fear when she panicked and lost control. They crashed and Stiles was thrown out through the broken window. She had convinced him to sneak a ride together without his father knowing again. This time, however, she had lost her sense of self in the moment. She panicked, calling him a monster trying to kill her. It hurt, but the fear overrode the pain. 

Here he was again in the same situation, having made a stupid decision once again with the life of his parent in the balance.

“ _ Boya _ ,  _ you aren’t wrong yet _ .  _ Go on forth.” _

That voice again. He is sure he’s heard it before. 

“ _ Get up, Stiles. You can’t give up now. There is more to come.” _

More? 

“ _ Yes. More. Much more.” _

Just like that, Stiles remembered why he had taken the jeep in the first place. Waking with a jolt, he moved to take the jeep in reverse. He was back on track and picking up speed once more. 

He was going to ram the jeep into the any trap and destroy it. He was going to save his father. He was going to save all three of them.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

With the  Darach and the Alpha pack chapter closed, it was all back to normal. Or that was what Stiles hoped. 

“You won’t be able to see it but you’ll feel it. Every day for the rest of your lives. It’ll be kind of a darkness around your heart and permanent, like a scar,” Deaton had told them. Walking out of such an event would change his life forever, he knew that. But he hoped for some sort of break. Some sort of a breather. What Stiles didn’t expect was to be thrown head first into what might be the worst thing he’s ever faced. 

It was soon after the dream with Lydia in it. The one where he opened the door. He didn’t care much for details in dreams but he remembered this one detail. He remembered it because of how weak Lydia sounded as she begged him not to go out the bedroom door. He remembered because the second he put his foot out of that door, he heard the voice again from back at the crash. And Stiles didn’t know if he fucked up or not. Yet.

It started with the dreams. Dreams of voices he couldn’t place yet sounded so familiar. Sometimes the voices were unrecognizable and others, he knew yet couldn’t seem to place for the life of him. But he knew one thing. Oddly enough, he knew all the voices belonged to one person or thing. Somewhere in his mind he knew it wasn’t his mind but something else. Ever since he knew that the Lydia in his dreams were neither Lydia nor his mind, so did he know the voices were the same. He says same but this time it’s completely different, alien. This time, the voices unnerved him. To the point where he felt wrong.

It felt wrong.

It was wrong.

‘ _ Is it?’ _

Wrong.

‘Stiles?’

_ Wrong. _

_ “Stiles.” _

**_ Wrong. _ **

**_ “ _ ** _ Stiles!” _

**_ WRONG! _ **

**_ “ _ ** Stiles,” a voice yelled. Stiles screamed awake to find himself once again in his father’s arms after once again, an episode of night terrors.

He didn’t have to look at his father to know he was worried. He was concerned himself. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t focus, but most importantly, he couldn’t  _ read _ . All three of them were having problems but Stiles felt like he was going to break soon.

Stiles didn’t know how much longer he could take this.


	3. Slipping

Stiles was losing his mind. He knew it because even after Scott and Allison became better, he still had nightmares. He could read. Which, given that he did most of the research in the pack, was a blessing. He’d thank God if he believed in any. However, the fact still remained that a week after the pack saved Malia, he was still plagued with mind numbing nightmares. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was getting worse.

He tried acting normal. Tried acting as if he wasn’t tired. As if he didn’t want it all to end. As if he wouldn’t have another panic attack or stare off into space with random thoughts buzzing around like bees. The Adderall didn’t work either. He had even begun sleepwalking again. He hadn’t done that since he was a child. It was impossible to fool his father so he asked him not to tell Scott. While his father wasn’t pleased, he decided Stiles had his reasons. Somewhere deep down, Stiles knew his father was just like him in a sense. He wouldn’t rely on others for things and too proud to say anything. He knew his father would think that it’s enough for him alone to know about Stiles’ situation. Afterall, he was his only family and his father. It was  _ his  _ responsibility. Scott, with all his supernatural, Alpha werewolf powers was just a boy like Stiles. 

One particular day, Stiles found himself curled up on the  Nemeton in the morning. Surprisingly, he wasn’t hypothermic. His father had stopped panicking when Stiles kept sleepwalking but he still had that look where he’d turn and find Stiles close to death or in some ditch, unconscious. So, before he could think of the details of how he ended up in a place that took him dying to find out the location of and thanking Go-Sa _ -someone  _ for making his father work the night shift the night before and probably wouldn’t have reached home yet _ , _ he made his way home. It was a Saturday so he didn’t need to rush to school. On the other hand, he was too scared to fall back asleep. Luckily, or unluckily, the nights he sleepwalked were the nights he had a peaceful night’s sleep. Which made him hope he would sleepwalk once he fell asleep. However, reality was far from that. The truth of the matter was that Stiles wasn’t getting any sleep at all. And with all that restlessness, insomnia and exhaustion, came anger. His father kept ending up as the recipient to his sharp snarky comments that bordered on rude and offensive more often than not. Worse still was the fact that he felt like his father was taking the insults because he felt like he deserved them for some messed up reason.

Sometimes, he’d picture himself beating Scott up with his baseball bat for trusting Kira. Sometimes, he’d want to murder his Coach. Well, more than usual at least. It didn’t help that his teachers were assholes at times. Nor did the fact that a serial killer coming to their school did not seem to affect any of them. It was like this for quite a while now. Anything dangerous happens, people momentarily worry and stress about it before going back to being their normal self. Understandably, they weren’t involved in anything nor did any of them know anything. It still doesn’t change the fact that it all seemed like they are being wilfully ignorant. It made him wonder if they’d care if someone died. Someone they knew at school. Would they care? Or would they pretend to, like Stiles did after Heather died. No. He cared for Heather. He thinks. He should. They’ve known each other for years. Well, she did ignore him a lot before ignoring him completely in favour of her other friends. She wasn’t even his friend anymore. Even when he needed her the most. When his mother- 

Sometimes, Stiles wanted to go on a murder spree. Why did he feel like that? Is it the exhaustion? The real question is, if he did go on a spree, would anyone care?

Scott would care.

And somehow that made him feel extremely angry.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles had seen a lot of messed up things in his life. It should have made him desensitized to all sorts of things but that wasn’t the case. The slightest thing off key would set his paranoid thoughts off. It made him irritable. He knew he should take some rest when he found that random key in his collection but there was the party and its been so long since Stiles just let loose and had fun. If that meant he had to shut his paranoid brain up about a stupid key and keep his murderous rage over helping Kira sneak into the police station when his father did not need the additional fire, then so be it. It’s for Scott anyways. Well, he’d say that but he still ended up looking at the stupid key and dangling it between his fingers. That was until he saw Rafael make his way to the station in his car. And like any supportive friend, he pushed himself to help Scott again, hoping to whatever  Eldritch deity that it wouldn’t affect his father’s case. However, knowing the asshole, that would be far from the what would happen.

It was slightly satisfying when he saw the look on Rafael’s face as he admitted to knowing his stupid secret. He still had the strong need to get hammered though. 

The party was great! Really great. He got kissed the second he got in, he danced, got drunk, it was great! Only, his mind kept going back to the key. He had promised himself not to worry about it the second he went in for the party but he couldn’t stop himself. ‘One look won’t change anything,’ he told himself. 

Oddly, the key glowed green under the blacklight. It caught his  fascination before a sauntering Caitlin with drinks in her hand proved to be a better alternative. She took the key from his lowered hand smiling at it like it was the funniest thing.

“Your key has phosphorous on it,” she exclaimed. And that would have been interesting if she didn’t suddenly kiss him. Which got him side-tracked. 

“Uh,” he began, confused, “I thought you liked girls?”

I do like girls,” she conceded. “You?”

“Absolutely,” he answered without a doubt in his mind. 

“Great!”

“ So, you also like boys.”

“Absolutely.” Stiles nodded. “Do you?”

And wasn’t that a good question. Stiles wasn’t attracted to any of the guys he’s seen but somehow, he knew he wasn’t exactly entirely straight either. He wondered if that meant he was bisexual like Caitlin. Then again, gender didn’t matter much to Stiles. He simply preferred girls.

Well, it didn’t seem to matter when Caitlin begun kissing him again. What did matter was the key in his hand. He wondered what a normal person would do vaguely before pulling away to ask the question that’s been buzzing in his head. 

“Um, sorry,” he begins, with a cringe. “What is phosphorous?”

“Um, they’re any substance that illuminates. It’s in your teeth and your fingernails. Laundry detergent. It’s also in this,” she says brushing his lips, and Stiles licks the paint Caitlin got on them. “We use UV light. That’s why it glows.” And then they’re back to kissing. Again, Stiles finds more questions buzzing in his head. 

“How would I get phosphorous on my key?”

“Have you been handling chemicals?”

“Nah I don’t think-” He stops suddenly with answers rapidly supplied to his brain just as many as the questions.

‘The  shrap ,’ his mind supplied. Stiles knew where he had to go. He  apologized to his partner for the evening, gave her a bottle of water and made his way out of Derek’s apartment kicking himself for his stupid  curiosity but not really regretting it. 

The chemistry lab was just as quiet as the rest of the school. Even then, Stiles felt like he’d walk into the lab only for Barrow to jump out of the closet and terrorize everyone. Nervously, he made his way to the closet and took out the key from his pocket. 

‘Am I sure about this?’ He couldn’t help but worry about what it would mean, if the door opened. Somehow, he pulled himself to do it. To his horror, the door opened. The key was for the closet and from that metallic scent of blood, he knew this was definitely where the killer had hidden. He couldn’t look at it any longer for fear of another panic attack. Instead, he looked at the board. The atomic numbers that were written was not yet erased. He walked up to it, hands shaking, he picked up the chalk. He swallowed, nervously before quickly writing on the board the same numbers. 

If anyone could explain any event well out of the pack, it would be Stiles. He figured things out. That’s what he did. And from the looks of things, he had figured out yet another piece of the puzzle. He was the one who helped Barrow. He was the one who controlled the serial killer. But for the life of him, he couldn’t think of many reasons as to why he would have done it. His tired,  exhausted mind would have thought of Kira as a threat and decided to kill her with the help of a killer- no. 

No. No. No. That was impossible. In the first place, how did he know Kira was a supernatural creature? Was it her knowledge on Bardo? No. Was it the fact that she moved to Beacon Hills? It’s common knowledge now that supernatural creatures were drawn here. But he couldn’t simply do things because he had a hunch, much less his subconscious.

Whatever it may be, he had to tell Scott. And that, for some reason, put him off. Why?

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Nothing. It was all a big pile of nothing. He didn’t have the key. He didn’t show it Scott before so he had no proof. And the note on the board was erased so he had nothing to show for. No evidence. Should he be thankful that he didn’t have any incriminating evidence against him? The way Scott looked at him, it made him question his own sanity. Maybe he had to get professional help.

Professional help meant he had to go to Melissa. With talking to Melissa came two overwhelming feelings. One was the relief of finally falling to sleep. He didn’t have to worry anymore. The second was this odd sense of betrayal. As if putting him to sleep was equal to throwing him to the wolves. The feeling slowly faded away as he slipped away into unconsciousness. 

Just as he fell asleep, he found himself in another dream. He hated that he couldn’t go to sleep without these stupid dreams. It made him so tired. Just then, he became more aware of where he was. He was in the forest again by the  Nemeton . Of course, by the Nemeton. But this time, he saw a huge fox curled up on the top of the stump. The fox was beautiful. Its white fur ended in black and it had nine tails. He knew it was nine because for once he decided to count the tails instead of his fingers. 

The fox looked carefully at him. It didn’t seem frightened. It didn’t need to owing to its size. It simply watched him. Stiles, as stupid and curious as he can be, decided the best thing to do was to go towards the creature. Somehow, it was an automatic response.

“ _ Oh? Are you approaching me?”  _ The voice resounded in his head and seemed so familiar that Stiles found himself walking more confidently towards the fox. The fox, for he knew the voice belonged to the fox, chuckled. “ _ Alright. Just this once I will let go of your offense towards me. Only because I like you so very much, Boya.” _

Somewhere, in the back of his head, if he thought hard enough, he would have placed the nickname to the one back in the crash during the eclipse. Though, for now, his body seemed to move on its own towards the fox. He crawled on top of the stump of the tree as the fox gave way for him to lie down on it and curled around Stiles. And Stiles on any other day would have been thoroughly confused at the images his subconscious created, even though he did like foxes, but right now, he decided it was time to take a nice long rest.


	4. Riddled

When Stiles woke up, he wasn’t curled up around any giant cuddly fox. He opened his eyes to a cold and dark place. He couldn’t see anything. The last thing he remembered was going to sleep in the hospital. The thought of losing track of what he was doing scared him. The endless stream of ‘what was he doing here?’ and ‘where is this place?’ and so on went around and around like his laundry in the machine. Vaguely, he could hear words that were once spoken to him. 

‘Laundry detergent.’ 

‘Have you been handling chemicals?’ 

‘Stiles, are you okay?’ 

‘Nah, that’s not my key, son.’ 

‘A serial killer is bad enough but someone who could control a serial killer-’ 

‘Are you getting any sleep? Man, you look tired.’ 

‘Are you doing alright? You look really tired.’ 

‘When’s a door not a door?’ 

‘Stiles, you can figure it out.’ 

‘Stiles! Don’t go out that door. Please!’ 

‘Stiles.’ 

“Mischief.” 

‘Mischief.’ 

‘Yo, boya.’ 

“Boya?” 

“Stiles.” 

Stiles clenches down on his ears with his hands trying to make it all stop. To stop his head from hurting. He found out that his legs were trapped in a bear trap and he felt himself truly scared. The pain seemed unbearable. He knew, distantly, that he was crying. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter because something else suddenly caught his attention. The soft breathing that he could hear made him stop to listen. He knew it wasn’t his. He was close to hyperventilating. No. This was someone else. Someone nearby. 

He groped the dark only to find his phone nearby. He hurriedly grabbed it and called the number that he knew would be the best idea. 

“C’mon,” he begged softly hoping nobody would hear him, “pick up, you ass. Pick up! Please.” 

His voice trembled before he sighed in relief when the other person picked up. 

“Hello? Stiles?” 

“Scott,” he asked softly while trembling all over, irrationally afraid that it might be someone else. 

\-------------------------------------------------------------- 

The boy was lying there, unaware. They knew they should take control but the boy’s subconscious was too stubborn. They would have adored that side of him if they weren’t in the best of situations right now. They knew that the boy’s _friends_ would take care. They were extremely annoyed at seeing this little thing in the hands of others. But they had to agree, it was useful at times. 

There was always a plus. They could feed off the boy’s pain and fear. 

There was also a minus. They didn’t like seeing the boy in pain nor fear. 

It was like a pointless move in Go. One that was necessary because of the other’s stupid yet oddly tricky move. In the end, they would win anyways. So why the struggle? 

They wished their boy would give them his everything. 

They sighed as they decided to give the first nudge. 

“ _Okite_ _kudasai_ _,_ _bocchan_ _,”_ they drawled sarcastically. They immediately regretted it for they knew the best way to push their boy was to put him in a bad situation. They didn’t like hurting him even if he had hurt them. Their boy woke up promptly to their attempt at waking him up. They had put him in a place where they knew he wouldn’t like. They also hoped this time he would remember. Because this time, they will be sure to remind Stiles. Yes, they are sure. 

To their annoyance, Stiles called his friend. They shouldn’t get angry. No. No. They knew. They knew he would call Scott. It still made them angry. They smiled instead. They will play a little game with their boy. Who said they shouldn’t have fun while keeping his boy alive? 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Stiles’ phone had completely died now. 

“C’mon,” he half begs out frustrated and sniffling before throwing it down on the floor. 

He pushes himself up with a struggle. The room was getting colder and he was beginning to get tired. His body seemed too cold to move but he decided he’d finally check up on the pain radiating from his leg. He tugged hard on the trap only for him to yell out in pain. 

As he yelled, he saw footsteps pass by before him and he starts back with a choke. He tried his best to back away trying to get some purchase on the pipes behind him. 

“Who’s there,” he asks, trying to muster all the courage and anger he could. “Who are you,” he yells in question. 

He is answered in Japanese. It was like a curve ball thrown straight at him. “What?” 

It continues to speak in Japanese almost as if it was mocking him. Stiles bent down, tired and sniffling. He tried to tug on the trap once more to no avail. 

“I don’t- I don’t understand,” he tries to get out, his mouth not moving the way he wants due to the cold. 

“Not who are you, Stiles,” it answers him. “Who are we?” 

Stiles is not able to comprehend the meaning behind it. He didn’t know if it was the cold, but if this was his conscience, it was being a real jerk. He looks carefully at the figure walking before him in the dark. It was a man in a bomber jacket and pants. Curiously, his head and hands were covered in bandages. 

“It’s getting colder, Stiles,” it stated silkily. “Did you notice? We’ve stopped shivering. You know why that’s a bad sign?” 

“It’s the bodies-bodies method to conserve energy. It was my fifth-grade science report. Hypothermia,” he stammers, trying harder to speak through the numbness. 

“Our speech is starting to thicken,” it goes on like it’s teaching him. “Then comes the deep,” it pauses like it’s being dramatic, “confusion. We’re going to die if we don’t get out of here.” 

“Stop saying that. Stop saying _we,”_ Stiles pushes out angrily, trying hard to keep his eyes open. 

“We’re trying to keep you from freezing to death,” it says more urgently. “You better get up Stiles.” 

“How? There’s a frickin steel jaw trap on my leg,” he bursts out with ever increasing crescendo. It turns to look at him, and he can barely make out sharp jagged teeth inside the mouth that isn’t covered in bandages. 

“Is there,” it asks quietly. And Stiles is so tired, he tries not to cry as he looks down again. 

“Yes,” he says, rubbing at his nose, tired of everything when he notices something odd. 

“Notice something different,” the creature asks, voicing out what Stiles was thinking. He looks carefully at his legs, pulling his right leg out by his left one that was caught in the trap. 

“It was on your right leg before wasn’t it?” 

“N-no,” Stiles stammered out. 

“Are you sure,” it whispers in question. Stiles realized again that he was daydreaming once again. This was just another one of the games his mind played on him. It has to be. He still didn’t know why. Why was this happening to him? Why not Scott? Or Allison? Why him in particular? It didn’t make any sense. 

“What is this,” he asks and turns to the creature, eyes pleading. “what are you doing?” 

“We are trying to save you, Stiles,” it turns to look at him. If it wasn’t for the weird bandaged appearance with sharp jagged metal looking teeth, Stiles might have felt a little less threatened. “We are trying to save your life.” 

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

Stiles tries his best to stay awake. Even with his struggle to stay alive, he tried his best to connect the dots. It didn’t make sense. Nothing made sense. He knew there was a missing puzzle piece. He knew that. And yet, he felt like that was the least important part. Like there was something more to this. All of this. 

At this point, Stiles came to understand one thing. There was always one reason why creatures like this one came to Beacon Hills. It was to harm people. The creature before him that went on its merry way to draw sketches on the wall was no exception. But aside from wondering who its target was, Stiles couldn’t shake this nagging feeling that there was something else to it. Something more to it. Was this even a creature? Or was this his mind? 

Lucky for him, it didn’t seem to want to hurt him. Or kill him. In fact, quoting its words, it was trying to save him. Point one for ‘this-is-his-mind-playing-tricks-on-him’. 

On the other hand, he had called Scott. If it was smart, it wouldn’t have let him use his phone unless he was going to mess with whoever he had called. Did it know he would call Scott? Did it want to hurt Scott? Point one for ‘it’s-a-bad-guy'. 

He was still trying to keep his consciousness as the creature kept scribbling the same thing over and over in the same spot. 

“You don’t understand, do you,” it asked again mockingly and Stiles thinks that if this _is_ his sub conscience, his sub conscience was an ass. He recalled the riddle about the door it explained to him in sign language. _Sign language_ . Now, it was alternating between Japanese and English. “It’s a riddle,” it says slowly, like Stiles was a toddler in answer to Stiles’ thoughts. ‘Yeah, I _know_ that,’ Stiles wanted to answer. “Do you know any riddles, Stiles,” it asks him, almost encouragingly. 

“A few.” 

“What gets bigger the more you take away?” 

“A hole,” he replies, slowly. 

“What gets wetter, the more it dries?” 

“A towel.” 

“When is a door not a door?” And Stiles plays with his hands shakily. This was surely his sub conscience. 

“When it’s ajar,” he replies, shaking slightly. 

“Everyone has it but no one can lose it. What is it?” 

“I don’t,” he pauses, body almost given up on him, “I don’t know.” The thing sighs. It moves closer to him and Stiles is shaking. 

“Everyone has it but no one can lose it,” it repeats slower and closer to him. He gets more nervous, feeling some sort of adrenaline coursing through him. “What is it, Stiles?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Everyone has it but no one can lose it,” it says once more, faster. He feels himself getting more anxious. He needed to run. No. He needed to answer it. The answer.... The answer was at the tip of his tongue. He knows it. But he can’t seem to recall. It stalks closer to him. It walks almost like it can’t seem to coordinate its own movements. Stiles chokes. 

“Sore wa nanda?” 

Stiles is crying once again. He shakes his leg and rubs his nose with a finger. 

“I don’t know.” It’s close to his face now. 

“ **Everyone has it but no one can lose it** ,” it stresses, screaming at his face. “Nanda sore wa?” 

“Please, stop,” he cries weakly, hiding his face from it with his hands. Somehow, it does. Stiles looks up to see it looking intently at him. 

“Waga no namae wa nandesuka?” 

“I don’t understand. I don’t,” Stiles stammers when it sighs once more. It gets up and pulls on the trap on his leg. He screams and struggles but it doesn’t help. 

‘Stiles!’ 

He tries his best to stop being dragged. 

“Stiles!” There are arms around him and he finds himself covered in dirt and leaves. He kicks and struggles to get out of the hold. 

“Stiles.” He focuses to notice who’s arms he was in. It was Melissa. He was fine. He looked up to see Rafael staring at him with pity. 

He was awake. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Okite kudasai, bocchan - Kindly wake up, little master  
> (well, it's supposed to be respectful so yesh, something like that.)  
> Sore wa nanda - what's that (Google translate makes mistakes but well, this was used in canon. Full disclosure; I don't know Japanese)  
> Nanda sore wa - (same thing but I thought it made more sense)  
> Waga no namae wa nandesuka - what is my name (waga is sort of old school... something. I am not entirely sure but it's the closest I got to 'our')


	5. Fears

In all of Stiles’ life, Stiles had a knack for throwing himself into dangerous situations. This part of him didn’t crop up because of Scott’s transformation into a werewolf. Nor was it because of Scott’s tendency to want to help people. He was always reckless. He was always looking for trouble. Be it messing with Coach’s stuff or meddling with his father’s work. That night with Scott, hunting for a dead body wasn’t some exclusive incident. He was always hacking into official Government files, snooping through other people’s business, listening in on the police with a spare walkie talkie radio that he kept in his jeep and his father didn’t confiscate for the sole reason that he knew Stiles would find another way to meddle. Finding the body in the woods was just a step up in his own game.

He was always aware of his weaknesses. He knew he was frail even by human standards. And while his best friend lost all his wimpiness after the bite, Stiles was still considered a wimp. Which was why he would try his hardest to make up for it. Even before the pack was formed. He did research. He thought up things. He pushed his head into police business and helped figure things out for his father, even if the man pushed his face out, sometimes physically. He was aggressive in that sense. Never backing down, never giving up even if his body did. He relied on his mind. He relied on his ability to figure things out. 

So, when the chances of his mind not working properly made its way to the forefront of his thoughts, he was confronted by his worst fears. More than any monster of the weak they’d face. More than dying. More than anything. Being useless was the worst thing Stiles could imagine. It meant he can’t help. It meant he doesn’t need to know things. 

It meant he wasn’t needed.

As he lied down in the hospital room, he could clearly hear Melissa and his father talking softly outside. Talking softly, his ass. He could hear them as clear as day. He didn’t want to hear them talk. Not about him. Not about this. He turned his head so he could try sleeping but he couldn’t. A tear slipped out of his eye.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

It was confirmed that he had to take the test. It was scheduled for the next day. He couldn’t sleep the whole night. Almost as if he has slept enough. Well, he knew it came with the territory.

He was all ready for the MRI scan. Looking down at himself, he tugs at the hospital dress once irritably. He never liked the outfit. Too many memories of seeing his mother in one of these.

_ ‘You don’t need to do all this,  _ _ boya _ _ ,’  _ a voice rang in his head. It felt too nice. So nice, that it seemed out of place.

“You ready yet, Stiles,” his father calls out from outside the room and he was pulled out of his momentary confusion. 

“Yeah,” he yells out and gets out of the room. Melissa and his father are standing outside and he looks at each of them. They both stand there with matching sad looks. They both try to hide it well but he knows them all too well to not see it. 

Unsurprisingly, Scott makes his way down the hallway and holds Stiles tight like he didn’t want Stiles to shatter. He honestly doesn’t know who would shatter though – him or Scott.

The doctor in charge of his scan speaks to his father but everything feels so unreal that Stiles doesn’t listen to a thing. Scott is by his side and that seems enough. The doctor then turns to talk to him and he is forced to listen to him.

“Okay, Stiles,” the doctor begins. “Just to warn you. You’re  gonna hear a lot of noise during the MRI. It’s due to pulses of electricity going through the metal coils inside the machine. Uh- If you  want, we can get you some earplugs or some headphones?”

“Ah,” Stiles starts, shaking his head. “No. No. Um, I don’t need anything.” He scratches his temple not really wanting to listen to anything. 

“Hey,” his father calls him with a tap on his shoulder. “We’re just on the other side of the window. Okay?” He looks at Stiles with the standard look a cop gives the victim.

“Okay.” His father smiles, almost unsure of whether to leave Stiles alone or not. He puts a reassuring hand on his father’s arm and with another forced smile, his father leaves him. Melissa nods encouragingly at him and follows his father and the Doctor outside. That left Scott who stood in the same place beside him, trying not to cry and failing. He was nervously playing with his hands trying not to look up. He looked like the time he found out Alisson was leaving and he couldn’t accept reality. He looked lost. That was not a good look on him.

“You know what they’re looking for right?” Stiles looks at Scott carefully before continuing, “It’s called  Frontotemporal Dementia.” 

Scott turns to look at him, his eyes pained. Stiles, himself can’t seem to bring the words out but he does. More for himself than for Scott. He wanted to come to terms with the possibility of him having it. He needed to know for sure. 

“Areas of your brain start to shrink,” he continues, not looking at one place for too long. “It’s what my mother had. It’s the only form of Dementia that can hit teenagers. There’s no cure.”

Stiles bites his lips as he tells Scott. Scott wipes a tear and looks down.

“Stiles, if you have it, we’ll do something.” He looks carefully into his eyes. “ _ I’ll _ do something.”

He nods at Stiles and Stiles knows. He knows what that means but he also knows it wouldn’t change anything. He turned it down twice for a reason. He knows, somehow, deep down, that it won’t work on him. And even if it did, he’d still not want it. It wasn’t for him. But when he looks at Scott, willing to try his best, he hugs him and feels Scott hug him back. They both know he wouldn’t want the bite. It doesn’t matter at the moment though. Tears make its way down his cheeks.

The MRI scan makes him claustrophobic. He isn’t normally claustrophobic but with all the tension, he can’t seem to want to stay still. He moves about trying to lie down comfortably.

“Okay Stiles,” the Doctor’s voice comes in through the intercom. “This is going to take 45 minutes to an hour. Now, remember. Try not to move.” Stiles moves his head, trying to lay still. “Even just a little bit,” the Doctor says as if in reply to Stiles’ behaviour and Stiles stops. “Stiles, you’re going to hear that noise now,” he continues. “Kind of like a hammer hitting an anvil.”

The clanging noise begins and Stiles is immediately thrown off guard. He regrets not taking headphones with him. The noise doesn’t let him think. The concept of sitting in a place without moving, without being able to think makes him feel all kinds of uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how long he lies there before he screws his eyes shut. 

Stiles opens his eyes when he stops hearing the noises. 

He finds himself standing in the room with nothing going on and seeing his father and Melissa look at the Doctor’s screen. They don’t notice him at all. They don’t notice that he’s not inside on the bed, under the scanner. When he feels someone walking behind him, he turns to see the creature from before.

“Have you figured out our riddle Stiles?”

Stiles clenches his fist. What was first fear and sadness morphed into irritation and anger. 

“No,” he states, wringing his clenched fist once in an attempt to shake the obscenely offensive thoughts he was having. “No, I did not.” It looked at him once and chuckled breathily.

“My Stiles, I had hoped you would have thought it out by now,” he says with a  put-upon tone of regret. “I was going to let them go, if you had answered us.”

That made Stiles freeze. All his anger and irritation fizzled out to bring back the panic.

“Let who go?” It walked over to him, so close, he could smell the blood from  its mouth. 

“Your friends. Your family,” It whispered softly, looking at his father and Melissa beyond the glass wall. “Everyone you have ever loved.”

The statement shocked Stiles. A shiver went up his spine. It finally dawned on him that this wasn’t some weird dream of his. This was someone,  _ something  _ that was inside his body, playing with him. A creature that had no qualms in killing people. He tried shaking the thought, desperately.

“No. You’re just- just a part of my sub conscience,” he said turning away and closing his eyes. “This isn’t real.”

“Ara  ara ,” it purrs. “It is real, Stiles. We are very much real!” It didn’t laugh. It didn’t mock him. It was serious this time. “ Saate , tell us. Everyone has it but no one can lose it. What is it?”

I don’t know,” he answered, shakily.

“Everyone has it but no one can lose it. What is it?”

“I don’t know,” he warbled through his tears. He tugged at his hair trying to think. He knew it. The answer was definitely at the tip of his tongue.

“Stiles. What is it?” He closes his eyes and covered his ears. All he can think about is the people he cares about dying. Dying because he couldn’t answer a stupid riddle.

“I don’t know! I don’t know!  _ I don’t know! Shiraneyo,”  _ he yells out _. _

_ “ _ What is it,  boya ?” And the voice sounds so familiar, the answer comes to Stiles immediately.

“A shadow.” He turns to look at his own face look at him. Only, this was a version of himself when he was a child. The childlike version of him smiled softly at him. So softly, it hurt his heart for some reason. With a flick of its hand, it brought Stiles to his knees. It brought its palms to his face, holding it. All Stiles can do is look up at it.

“You are just the same in some ways, Stiles,” it says, grinning at him. Its face was very close to his. Something about it tugged at his memories. Something he seemed to have forgotten. “Now that you’ve answered our riddle,  we’ll keep our word. We won’t kill your loved ones.”

“And,” Stiles begins nervously, rolling his tongue about, “and what if you don’t keep your promise?”

“We will keep our promise,” it answers with a smile but he sees a flash of anger behind it. “We are not like you nor some others. We keep our promises.”

Stiles is left wondering, confused beyond anything as to what the creature meant. The creature simply sighs and squats before him with a hand to its cheek. 

“Now, on to the important part,” it starts, almost bored but Stiles can see it dig its fingers into the palms of its free hand. “I’ll speak in English so you understand this time. What is our name?”

Stiles simply knelt there like a fish out of water. He was sure he got a physical whiplash from that question. He sits down just like that.

“How the hell should I know that,” he asks. The creature was weird. How would he know the other’s name? But the creature looked disappointed. In the blink of an eye, it turned to resemble Stiles. It pushes him down and he can feel its weight on him. His arms were being pinned above him and for someone that looked like him, it sure was strong. This close, he noticed things different about the face it wore. It was his, sure, but it was also different. His features were sharper and his lashes longer at the ends. Its eyes were also darker, pupils dilated. 

“Stiles,” it began softly. He was so close, and its voice so soft, Stiles was pulled to the present. “You know the answer to this. Just like you knew the answer to the riddle.” They smile coyly and Stiles felt  _ very  _ confused seeing himself like that. “You will remember. And when you do,” they come closer. So close, Stiles can feel their hot breath. “We will make sure you belong completely to us. Your everything will be ours and ours alone.”

Stiles feels a shiver run down his spine and can feel himself get hotter. 

“For now,” they  continue , not giving Stiles any space, “let’s play a game.”

They kiss Stiles, shocking him. They kiss him slow and then fast, desperate. They kiss him like they were pouring themselves into him and he found himself drowning in it, kissing them. Kissing them doesn’t feel odd. Instead, it feels like a part of himself has returned. It was the last moment he had before  _ he  _ turned  to _ we  _ and  _ they  _ were going to have some  _ fun. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> ara ara - my, my (basically onee-san language)  
> saate - well  
> shiraneyo - I don't know (informal)


	6. Questions

“They fool everyone,” they tell Scott, enjoying every minute of it.

“Not everyone.” And before they realize who said that, they are hit with poison. They know what it is.  Letharia Vulpina. They look angrily at Deaton, who injected them with it. They were already angry. Now, they were livid. ‘We are going to kill everyone,’ they thought before getting frustrated. ‘No. We made a promise. We keep our promises.’ Another part of them screamed at them to break their promise. Begging them to but they have to keep it. They have their pride.

As they go down, slipping into  unconsciousness , they slowly separate. First, they feel the shock. Then, the regret. Soon, it is accompanied by  embarrassment and self-hatred. Finally, they become  _ he  _ and  _ it.  _ The boy and the fox. They black out.

When Stiles becomes conscious once again, he finds himself staring at the hospital ceiling. He realizes that the pack must have put him in one of those spare beds in the hospital to rest on. He turns to look at Scott sleeping on a visitor’s chair beside his bed. His head was down on the bed by Stiles’ side and an arm was over his own. Stiles was swimming in guilt at the sight. Not long ago, he was trying to actively hurt Scott. He barely moved when Scott woke up with a start.

“Stiles,” he asks carefully, and he nods in answer, sitting up. That was all it took for Scott to rush to stand up and hug him. 

“Hey man,” Stiles says as he pats Scott on the back. “Good to see you too.”

“Stiles,” Scott repeats, relief painting his every word. It made mental knives stab Stiles just as he had Scott. Scott looked tense as he pulls back and looks down carefully at him. “Dude, you were out for hours after Deaton put the fox down. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, drumming his thumb. “Yeah, um absolutely. Is-is everyone else okay?”

And Stiles knows that’s a dumb question knowing exactly well how many people were hurt in the police station. He knew some of them very well from when he was younger. Scott bit his lip before shaking his head.

“Stiles,” he begins looking earnestly at him. “It wasn’t your fault, alright?”

“Probably not,” he concedes to Scott. “But-but I remember, Scott. I felt it. I  _ enjoyed it.” _

“No,” he says, shaking his head. There was so much conviction in his voice. “It wasn’t you. It’s the  nogitsune .”

Hearing the word, Stiles realized he knew the term. The creature didn’t tell him. He just  _ knew  _ that’s what it was called. But that wasn’t its name, was it?

Stiles looks down to see the hole in Scott’s t-shirt.

“Are  _ you  _ okay,” he asks, giving Scott a look. Scott looks puzzled before looking down at himself. He looks up immediately and shrugs without a care. As if he’s the last thing Stiles needs to worry about.

“This,” he asks. “Yeah, no problem. I’m fine. Werewolf healing powers, remember?”

Stiles does but that doesn’t change the fact that he had hurt his best friend. His brother. Even if he was controlled by the nogitsune. He felt like he should have done better. Not gone along with the creature’s games, enjoying it even. 

“Stiles?”

He should have done something. No. Wait.

“Stiles.”

He  _ can  _ do something. Maybe if he gets admitted into Eichen house, he can’t harm anyone.

“ _ Stiles _ !”

He looks up at Scott, shocked out of his thoughts. Scott looks at him, concerned.

“Stiles,” he starts again, putting a hand on his shoulder, leaning over him. “It. Wasn’t. You.” 

“Yeah,” he echoes, not really believing him. “I know. I know, Scott. And um- did Dad, uh tell you anything about the brain scan?” Scott pauses before he makes an O face.

“Oh. Yeah. No. You’re fine, dude. You don’t have,” he trails off with a hand gesture. Stiles nods, not knowing what would have been better. Him dying or him killing people because of someone wearing his skin. Somehow, he is disgusted with himself when his instincts lean towards the latter.

Scott doesn’t let him go until he pats Scott on the arm and gives him a curt nod and a tight smile. Scott reluctantly let’s go and Stiles gets off the bed. They walk out, silently. They go to Deaton.

Deaton is leaning over his metal table and staring at Stiles carefully, concerned.

“Stiles,” he begins matter-of-factly. “You don’t have much time before you are controlled by the fox once more. Luckily, as of now, the fox can’t affect you. That will change as time goes by.”

“How much time do I have,” he asks, nervously fiddling with his hands.

“Honestly,” Deaton says, with a tilt of his head. “Two days at most. Less if you sleep.”

“Great,” he exclaims shaking his fist. “Been doing that already.”

“I’m assuming you have a plan already seeing as you’re not worried.”

“Yeah. Eichen house.” Deaton frowns. Scott makes a sound in protest but Stiles gives him a look that stops Scott in his track. He’s already decided.

“I,” Deaton draws out, “do not agree with your  decision .”

“Yeah, well, unless you have a plan to kill this thing,” Stiles spits out, feeling sick to his stomach at the thought of killing the  nogitsune for some reason. “I am not letting it play with anyone else’s lives.”

“If that is what you want. There’s part of Eichen house that even supernatural creatures can’t escape from. I have friend there. If you’ve made up your mind, I’ll make sure to call him.” Stiles nods in gratitude.

Scott looks between Deaton and Stiles, shocked and hurt.

“No,” he almost pleads Stiles. “C’mon Stiles, we’ve faced so many other killers before. We faced a  frickin Alpha pack! We can deal with the nogitsune. We’re going to talk to Kira’s Mom. Maybe she has some idea. We can try trapping it. We’ll  _ figure it out _ .”

“Wait,” Stiles starts, confused. “Why her mom?”

“Because I am the one who’s known that thing you carry inside you the longest, boy” The feminine voice from behind made them all turn to see Kira and her mother stand there. In the lady’s hand, she holds a sword sheath.  _ ‘A Katana, _ ’ Stiles his brain supplies. He will come to know later that Lydia had insisted there was something in the basement of Eichen house only for Kira and Scott to find the sword and a very pissed off Malia. Kira’s mother looks suspiciously at Stiles, like he was going to rip everyone to shreds. And, frankly? Stiles isn’t that far from doing that.

“Stiles,” Kira starts nervously looking at him but not in the eye. “This is my Mom,  Noshiko . She’s apparently, also a Kitsune like me. But she hasn’t told me anything yet.” She looks at her mother,  accusingly .

“I wanted it to wait till we were at the druid’s place,” she spoke with her head held high. She walked over confidently towards the table but not before giving Stiles another once-over.

Scott moved immediately to stand before him protectively. He folded his hands and looked at  Noshiko who pointedly ignored the  Alpha .

“Did you call off the Oni,” he asks and Stiles vaguely remembers the black armoured creatures that had swords in their hands. He remembered the  nogitsune pulling out fireflies from inside their chests and watching the creatures fade to nothing.

“I don’t believe you should cover for this murderer.”

“Murderer,” Scott balks, becoming angry. “Stiles isn’t the nogitsune. We’re looking for a way to help him.”

“If you want to help him,”  Noshiko pauses, looking at Stiles once, “you’ll end his life.”

It was Stiles’ turn to balk at  Noshiko . On the one hand, he didn’t like the idea of dying and leaving his father alone. On the other hand, she did seem to have a point. 

“Mom,” Kira stepped in, angry on their behalves. “Stiles isn’t at fault. We can save him.”

“There is no way of saving him, Kira.”

“Maybe not with your rigid ways. But we’ll find a way,” she turns to nod at Scott. That in turn made  Noshiko frown. 

“Kitsunes are known to not get along with wolves,” she hissed looking at Scott. Kira immediately took Scott’s hand in hers.

“Yeah. In kid’s books.”

“There  are some truths in those books, Kira”

“It doesn’t matter,” Scott intervened, holding Kira’s hand tightly and shaking it slightly.  Noshiko looks between Kira and Scott before sighing and rubbing her face.

“And how, pray tell, are you going to save the boy,” she asked looking at Scott pointedly.

“I’m right here. Just saying,” Stiles comments waving a hand and giving a small smile at  Noshiko but she ignores it.

“We’ll figure that out once you’ve told us everything,” Scott continues on, getting closer to Noshiko. “Now, call off the Oni.”

“Only after Kira fixes the Katana.”

“What Katana,” Kira asks.  Noshiko opens the sheath on the table only for metal bits to fall out. Deaton decides to piece it all together while everyone else looks curiously at it.

“You are a thunder kitsune, Kira. You can fix the sword,”  Noshiko tell her. Kira shakes her head, scrunching up her face and not letting go of Scott’s hand.

“Not until you tell us everything,” she says firmly.

And so,  Noshiko begins the tale. Through the whole fiasco, Deaton and Scott pointed out that she was delaying the story, waiting for nightfall so that the Oni can kill Stiles. Kira stays confused and angry that her mother had been lying to her all this time. Stiles on the other hand was intently listening to know one thing and one thing only – the  nogitsune’s name. By the end of it, the sun had almost set and Kira was close to screeching at her mother to call off the Oni.

“Kira,”  Noshiko began once again, slowly, “make the sword.”

“I don’t know how,” Kira exclaimed and her mother took her hand gently, guiding it towards the sword. Her hand was finally hovering above it.

“We are not human, Kira. We are kitsune. We don’t learn things like humans do. It comes to us naturally.”

She hadn’t even completed speaking when the Katana glowed. The ridges and gaps between the broken bits vanished as the Katana was, once again, whole. Everyone looked surprised at the sight. Scott smiled proudly at Kira while  Noshiko had hid her own smile. She took the Katana in her hand and threw at Kira who grabbed it from the air immediately and brandished with ease and expertise she never had before. Kira looked at her mother in awe but that soon morphed into seriousness.

“I fixed it. I did it. Now, please, call off the  Onis .” Noshiko nodded. 

“It is done.”

“Wait,” Stiles finally spoke, catching everyone’s attention. “I wanted to ask. Did the nogitsune have a name?”

“A name?”

“Yeah,” Stiles said waving at her and Kira. “I mean you guys have names.  Nogitsunes are basically a type of kitsune  too, right ? So, what’s its name?”

“Nogitsune,”  Noshiko began, offended, “are not like other kitsunes. They strayed from the path of Inari, the God of all of us kitsunes. They almost never have a name. They were never granted one.”

“Why do they need to be granted a name? What’s the big deal? What’s in a name?”

“Everything,” Deaton answers instead. They all turn to look at him. “Names hold power. They are a part of your core. They are also used in rituals. With the right ritual and the right names, you can cause harm, protect or perform a summon. It’s why Jennifer had grown so powerful. Granted, she used the essence of the victim’s being rather than their names, but it’s also true in case of names.”

“Yes,” Noshiko continues. “And for a kitsune, it means having a meaning to their existence. Which is also why nogitsunes don’t have names. They have no purpose but to create chaos, strife and pain.”

“Wait, so how did you summon a  nogitsune without a name,” Stiles asked, scratching his head.

“You don’t need a name to call out a dark kitsune. All kitsune, even dark kitsune, have personalities. But when you call out a nogitsune, you call them for chaos. You do not call them for their individual self. They are simply field foxes. They are plenty and they all live together. It is like naming a group of flies.”

“So, what happens when you give a  nogitsune a name,” Stiles asks, drumming his thumb once again. He didn’t particularly like the analogy but he got the point.

“I wouldn’t know,”  Noshiko answered. “In all my 900 years of existence, I haven’t seen a nogitsune that has been named.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I decided to make the Katana part included for two reasons:  
> 1) I wanted to keep it sorta canon compliant  
> 2) I kinda felt that neglecting Lydia's Banshee powers over one single incident preceded and followed by visions that were accurate didn't make sense nor was fair to my queen!   
> Plus, Malia. Enough said.  
> Also, I hope you enjoyed this chapter too!   
> Lots of love from the writer~ <3


	7. Memories

Stiles didn’t sleep the whole night. He didn’t need to worry about feeling tired. He wasn’t.

“It has a name,” Stiles tells Scott again once Scott reached Stiles’ home. He was writing things on his board again. Navigating through the clutter of things already on it and scratching his neck on occasion. “Scott, I know it.”

“How are you so sure,” Scott motions with his hand. “I mean, I’m glad if that’s enough to make you want to stay, but I don’t know man. This seems  _ arbitrary _ .”

“No. No it’s not,” Stiles insists. He pauses his tugging on the red yarn to look at Scott. “And I’m not going to Eichen house  _ yet.  _ I never told you that I’m not going, Scottie. Look,” he sighs and flicks his eyes to the board once and then back to Scott, “I don’t know how to explain this to you. Look, I know they have a name because,” Stiles trails off trying to draw the words out of his mouth. His mind goes back to the kiss instead and he blushes.

“Because,” Scott prompts him. 

“Because they told me, alright?” Scott looks surprised at Stiles. Stiles instead looks down at the yarn in his hand. “They told me that they had a name. That  _ I  _ knew their name. That I had to remember it. So, yeah. That’s the plan. Find their name and stick myself in Eichen house where it won’t do anything to anyone else.”

“You don’t want to kill it,” Scott states silently. It wasn’t a question. It was the truth. His voice rung as clear as the shame Stiles felt. “That’s why you don’t care about planning. That’s why you don’t care about the Katana. The  Shugendo scroll. Even the Onis. That’s why you want to stay at Eichen house. You don’t want it to die.”

Stiles simply sat on the bed and hung his head in shame. Scott couldn’t believe it. There had to be some reason.

“It’s not manipulating me. The poison is still working,” Stiles voices out, tired, as if he knows what Scott was thinking. Scott stands still, folding his arms and leans on the door. He waits for Stiles to continue talking. Stiles pauses before continuing, “You’re right. I don’t want to kill it. I don’t even know if it’s possible. And I don’t know how well we will succeed in capturing it. But, yeah. I don’t want to go against it.”

“Why,” Scott barely whispers. “You’d rather go to Eichen house? Lock yourself in to stop from hurting people even though you know there’s probably a better way? Why would you go that far?” He is surprised when Stiles looks up at him again. There were tears running down his face. In a second, he was kneeling in front of Stiles. Without a word, he held Stiles as he sniffled onto his shirt.

“I don’t know,” Stiles speaks, his voice muffled slightly by the shirt. “I know that it kills people, Scott. I know that it plays these-these  _ tricks  _ and hurts people. I know that.  _ I’ve felt that.  _ I enjoyed it even as it did. And I hate that it did that. I hate that it caused so much pain. But I can’t seem to hate it. I can’t seem to want to get rid of it. And I know how that sounds like.  Shitteruyo . But I can’t help it. I’m sorry Scott. I’m sorry. Gomen.”

Scott didn’t know what to do. He felt his heart break as he heard his best friend speak like this. So different from how he is normally. But as he hears the few words of Japanese, he freezes, not knowing what to do.

“Stiles,” he begins slowly, “we’ll figure it out. Alright? We always do. And if you don’t want to kill it, we’ll find another way.”

“How?”

“Well, let’s do some research on Japanese lore. You can look into the name and I'll search through the library. The  nogitsune is a spirit, right?” Scott’s words seem to get through to Stiles because he pulls away and looks at him, curious. He’s not crying anymore. “So, don’t all spirits need some sort of appeasement? I’m sure it’ll be the same in the Japanese lore.”

“I guess,” Stiles concedes and wipes his eyes with his sleeve. “That leaves one thing though.”

“What?”

“How the hell are we going to find its name,” Stiles explodes while bobbing his head and gesturing with his hand. Scott finds himself stuck too.

“Well,” Scott theorizes, “do you think Kira’s mom might be lying when she said she didn’t know the name of the nogitsune?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Stiles is bummed. He folds is arms and bits his nail thinking of what the creature told him. “The  nogitsune specifically told me, it’s something that I should remember.”

There was a pause where both of them sat quietly and thought about it. Scott held his knees as he sat leaning on the bed. 

“Maybe it’s infantile amnesia,” he suggests. Stiles looks at him, clueless and wanting him to speak clearly. “You know how kids don’t remember before a certain age? Yeah, they call that infantile amnesia or childhood amnesia. Normally, a person remembers things vaguely from the age of three. So, if it’s before that,” he trails off. Stiles motions with his hand, eyes going wide.

“Scott, this is why I love you.” He laughs and runs to the only person who’d definitely know about his childhood while Scott just smiles. “Dad,” he calls out before turning to Scott one last time, “Okay. You do the lore search and I’ll find out Foxy’s name. Okay. Break!”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“No,” Stiles’ father told him. His arms folded as he listened to Stiles’ question. Stiles put his hands to the air and rolled his eyes.

“Oh c’mon,” he exclaimed. “Not one incident? Nothing?”

“Nada,” his father clarified. He put his thumb to his lip, confused as to why Stiles asked. “So, why do you want to know this right now? Shouldn’t we, I don’t know, stop the thing that’s possessing you?”

“Yeah, no. I know,” Stiles exclaims as he scratches his neck once again. “Speaking of, could you look and tell me how far the thing on my back has receded?”

He turns and lifts his t-shirt to show the expanse of his back to his father. The purple scaring that was all the way down to ribs were now barely at his s houlder .

“Not too long,” his father answered. “It’s to your shoulder now.”

“Great,” he drawls sarcastically and pulls down his tee. “What?”

The Sheriff gives him a pointed look. He knew what the receding scar meant.

“Okay. I know. It doesn’t look great right now. But I swear, we’re working on it. Scott is looking up lore to appease the spirit. Kira is helping him out. Alison and Argent are getting ready for the worst case. Lydia is helping Allison out. So is Isaac. Derek is.... Actually, I don’t know what Derek is doing. Everyone’s getting prepared.”

“So why do you need childhood stories, again,” the Sheriff asks, confused. 

“Well, we need the  nogitsune’s name. It told me that I knew  its name.”

“ _ It _ told you,” he asked, disbelief coating his words. “As in the  nogitsune told you its name?”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded, his hands on his hips and lips pursed, knowing exactly what his father was thinking. The Sheriff was extremely confused but he knew better than to ask the rhyme to his son’s madness. So, he conceded instead.

“Well, the fact still remains that there was nothing out of the ordinary that happened when you were three nor around that time.”

Stiles hung his head, defeated. He was sure he could get something out of this lead. His father walked back into his office before he paused and turned to Stiles.

“Although,” he began, becoming more confident in his words. Stiles looked up, hopeful and leaning his ears towards his father. “There was this one time... It was after your mother was diagnosed with Dementia.” Stiles froze. “There was this time when both of you had gone to the woods and she came back home but you didn’t. You went missing for a whole night. Dispatch was searching for you in the woods the whole night. We were going to give up when I saw a fox for a second there, in the woods. It just... Walked? I don’t know why, but I followed it. I found you not long after on top of this tree stump.” His eyes widened, just having realized something. “It’s the Nemeton. You were unconscious on the  Nemeton . I’m sure of it.”

This was it. This was the big lead Stiles needed. 

“Anything else happened,” he asked, excitedly gesturing with his hands. He was a second away from running to the library with the information.

“Nothing else,” his father said, shaking his head. Stiles felt bummed for a bit before deciding that he could work with the current amount of information. He bolted from there but not before hugging his father happily.

Taking the jeep, Stiles’ head was full of theories. He was going over the speed limit when he suddenly he slammed the brakes. The person behind him cursed as they overtook him and drove on.

Stiles was hit with the severe reality of the situation. He didn’t have childhood amnesia. He had amnesia, period. He didn’t remember. His father didn’t know anything and his mother who might have known something was dead. He ran his hands through his hair. He had hit a dead end. One that couldn’t easily be overcome. Maybe not ever. He slowly drove towards the school with the clarity that appeasement might not work.

He sat there in the jeep with his head on the steering wheel, hands till tightly wrapped around it. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths to calm down. Maybe the others had better luck than him. 

When Scott and Kira saw him walking slowly towards them, Scott looked hopefully at him. A silent question as he raised his eyebrows. Stiles shook his head.

“What happened,” Scott asked gravely.

“Wasn’t infantile amnesia,” he answered. His thumbs drummed on the chair testily as he stood holding the top of it. “It’s just amnesia. And no one knows what happened. Not even dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Shitteruyo - I know (informal)  
> Gomen - Sorry (also informal)


	8. Appeasement

Stiles had given up by the time the whole pack made their way to the library. His head rested on an open lore book he had deemed useless. His hands rested by his sides limply as he decided that whatever followed would suck.

“What’s up with him,” Allison asked and Stiles groaned in reply. Scott looked at him with pity.

“Well, considering he has a murderous spirit lurking in his head waiting to go on a murder spree once he sleeps, I think anyone would feel that way,” Isaac supplied with a tilt of his head. Stiles lifted his head just to squint at him. He was glad Isaac recovered but he’d do without his sass.

“Thank you, Isaac, for your wise words of wisdom,” Stiles drawled sarcastically. “Anything else you have to share other than your constant negativity?”

“Well,” Isaac shot back acting as if he was thinking, his arms folded as he took a step forward. “Wise and wisdom are basically the same thing.”

“ WiSe AnD wIsDoM aRe ThE sAmE tHiNg,” Stiles mocked him, spitefully. “Shut up.”

“He’s hit a dead end,” Scott supplied helpfully to Allison. She nods and takes a lore book from Scott’s hand before sitting opposite him. Lydia and Isaac sit beside her. Kira scratches her head and frowns as she looks into one particular book before banging her head repeatedly on it. She groans.

“Why do books in Beacon Hills have nothing much on Japanese lore,” she moans. “If I read another book that talks about some random lady with hair covering her face, I might just go crazy.” Stiles groans in agreement and probable mental agony.

“Anything in the Beastiary,” Stiles asks Lydia as he sits up. 

“Actually,” she begins, her eyes sharp as she plops a photocopy before everyone. “We found  _ something. _ It talks about giving kitsunes food. Particularly, tofu. There are a variety of dishes in fact.”

“Food,” Stiles asks, disbelieving. “ _ Food?” _

_ “ _ Yes.” 

“Lydia,” Stiles begins, feeling like his brain might just melt. “this is a centuries old creature that feeds off Chaos, Strife and Pain. After being called down to do its job, it was trapped in a glass jar under a tree for close to a century. I don’t think feeding it tofu from Okada will appease it.”

“We could try giving it sake,” Kira added weakly. Everyone looked at her oddly. “What,” she asked defensively, shrugging her shoulders. “Sake’s good.”

“Okay,” Stiles drawls with fake happiness. “Tofu and alcohol. What else? Me wrapped up in a ribbon, naked?”

This time everyone turned to look at him, confused. Lydia tilted her head, pouting. Stiles simply shrugged.

“It likes me.” Scott looked like he was having a serious ‘oh’ moment.

The gang began discussing ways to appease the fox and Stiles zoned out. His legs shook nervously as he scratched his neck. He shifted his attention to the room around him. He froze when he saw himself sitting on the floor and reading a book, leaning on a shelf. He knew instinctively that it was the  nogitsune .

“What happened on your end, Stiles?”

‘It’s not real,’ he thought. ‘It can’t be real.’ He could feel his heart pumping excitedly as a swirl of confusing feelings cluttered his head. Did he really need to do all this? Couldn’t he just go to Eichen house and sleep? Then it’ll be just him and the fox. He didn’t have to worry about the fox hurting or killing anyone. He didn’t need to let go of the fox either. He recalled the time he slept curled by the fox’s side. He doesn’t remember a time when he’d slept that peacefully before.

** “Stiles!”  **

Lydia’s voice brought him out of his thoughts and he looked at his friends nervously, scratching his neck and shaking his leg. Lydia notices this.

“How much time do you have left,” she asks with a pointed look.

“Not much,” he answers simply.

“You’re hallucinating, aren’t you,” Allison asked, dreading the answer. He simply nods. There’s a solemn silence. 

“What happened to your mom,” Isaac finally asked Kira. Kira shook her head, dejected and angry.

“She wouldn’t answer saying that it was pointless. Said that  nogitsunes don’t forgive. They are filled with only hate and spite. If they are offended, they will become truly vengeful.”

“Sounds like her,” Scott commented, rubbing his face tiredly. He didn’t like what the whole ordeal did to his best friend. Moreover, the hidden implications behind Stiles’ words made him question how the  nogitsune’s mind worked. He didn’t think Stiles realized what he felt either. Maybe somewhere, he was still clinging to the fact that he was still in love with Lydia. He wouldn’t put it past Stiles to be dense in things like this.

“What about your dad,” Lydia pointed out. Kira looked at her with knitted brows before her eyes widened with realization.

“No way. He knew too?”

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

The pack split up once again. While Scott, Stiles and Kira went to find Mr. Yukimura, Isaac went to see Argent who was with Derek and the twins. Lydia and Allison went their own separate ways. Later, it turned out that they had gone to Derek’s loft to see Peter. Peter had called out to Lydia and Lydia decided that something was better than nothing and took the bait. Allison had gone along to support and protect her.

Mr. Yukimura had, surprisingly said the same thing as was written in the Beastiary but with a little more detail.

“You would generally offer inarizushi, aburaage, rice and sake,” he informed. “All kitsunes like tofu.”

Stiles hung tiredly as he decided this was a dead end too. Scott was so far gone, he thought they might as well try feeding it tofu and alcohol. Kira scrunched her nose.

“Wait, is that why you make mom and me inarizushi when we get mad?” she asked, confused. Mr. Yukimura simply shrugged, his smile taunt.

“It’s what kitsunes like. However, I don’t think your plan will work that easily. We are dealing with a dark kitsune here. If it’s vengeful, I don’t think it’s a good idea to test how forgiving it will be.”

“Yes, thank you. I know,” Stiles spat out, impatiently. He scratched his neck before looking at Mr. Yukimura and regretting his word. “Sorry,” he mumbled out.

“So, you’re telling me,” Scott began, “that Kitsunes love to eat?”

“That is what the lore says, yes.” Mr. Yukimura nodded.

“And  nogitsunes are field foxes. So,  basically, they’re stray foxes who aren’t under the protection of the fox God, right?”

“Yes.”

“Then why wouldn’t they want to eat?” They all stared at him like he grew a third eye. He licked his lips before gesturing with his hands. “Look. Remember when we read all the lore books.”

“We brushed through them, yeah,” Stiles agreed, crossing his hands and scratching his chin.

“Well, the  lores are mostly about these hungry creatures. The Raven. The fox. The Coyote. They’re all hungry.”

“We went over this, Scott. It’s a nogitsune. It eats others’ pain. Not sushi.”

“And what if you’re wrong,” Scott challenged him. “What if we’re wrong? What if giving it a name  changes everything?”

“What does  giving it a name change,” Kira asks.

“Well, Deaton and  Noshiko said a name meant everything to a kitsune. It should mean a lot more to  nogitsunes who aren’t granted names right?”

“Like a stray dog,” Mr. Yukimura supplies, catching on. “If you give it a name, it’s not a stray anymore.”

“That’s all fine and dandy, but what does this have to do with food,” Stiles asks, waving his hands in frustration.

“Mr. Stilinski, it’s the moral duty of the owner of a pet to feed it,” Mr. Yukimura commented wisely.

“Great, great. But w _ ho  _ exactly is the owner?” Stiles asks sarcastically. 

“You,” Scott replies with a sunny smile and a pat on Stiles’ shoulder. Stiles was sure he was in another one of his vivid dreams. Surely.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stiles drove his jeep towards the Argent’s. Scott sat beside him as they drove quietly. Suddenly, Scott sat upright, looking at the road ahead.

“Stiles, this isn’t the way to the Allison’s house,” he commented.

“Yeah, I know,” Stiles conceded. They stop before the entrance of the Beacon Hills forest. The board hung before them locked by chains.

Stiles tightly grips the steering wheel before sighing and resting his head on it. It was the second time he did this today.

“You okay man,” Scott asks him softly. 

“I’m fine,” Stiles replies. He turns to look at Scott staring at him. He wasn’t buying it. He swallows before opening his mouth once more. “It’s just, what if this is a dead end too? What if I go in there and don’t remember  anything? What if the basement is too collapsed for me to even get inside? What if I don’t find the  Nemeton at all?”

Scott smiles warmly.

“I’ll follow you. I’ll help you find the  Nemeton . I’ll look for it with my other eyes.”

“Scott, you couldn’t find it before.”

“That was before. I’m an Alpha now.” Stiles pauses, looking at Scott’s earnest eyes before sighing.

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah, let’s go.”

They both jump out of the car to walk into the woods once more.

“Let’s go find a basement,” Stiles tells Scott with regained confidently as they jump over the chains and into the forest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Sake - alcohol; Japan is known for this (I'm guessing that is sorta obvious ehehe...)
> 
> Can you tell how much I loved writing this chapter?   
> Also, I couldn't imagine how in God's name Isaac could be out for the season like that! Like, damn. I wanted him to recover a little sooner, you know? Put those sexy werewolf powers to use~


	9. The boy and his fox

They were lost. They tried searching for the place, recalling their sacrifice. It didn’t help. Neither did Scott’s Alpha eyes. Luckily, it was still early noon. But Stiles felt tired after not sleeping for long. It was just then that he noticed a small fox. Apart from being cute, it was white with tufts of black fur here and there. It looked at Stiles with a tilted head. Stiles found the size of the fox to be especially odd. It wasn’t much bigger than a weasel. It began running and Stiles ran after it, mesmerized. 

“Stiles, wait,” Scott exclaimed, surprised and ran after him. Stiles just kept running after it. He didn’t dare look away, fearing that he might lose sight of the little thing. He ran until he was panting for air. Ran until, finally, he tripped over something and fell over. He had lost sight of the fox but looking up, he found himself at the Nemeton. The clearing was right before him with the  Nemeton right in the middle.

He realized Scott wasn’t beside him. Which meant it was just him. 

‘Another illusion, huh,’ he thought, a smile tugging at his lips. Finding the dilapidated basement entrance was easy. He opened the heavy doors, still panting after the run. He never realized how heavy the doors were. Especially now that they were broken, owing to his heroic crash into it last time. A strong sense of Déjà vu hit him as he made his way inside. He tried manoeuvring his way through dirt and debris, searching for something, anything to jog his memory. He coughed as he pushed things with more urgency and was greeted with dust instead.

He yelled in frustration, tugging at his hair. He moved further in when the roots caught his eye. One side of the room was no wall at all. It was all roots. He scrambled over debris to get there. Looking about, he found there was a cavity big enough for a small kid to get inside. He forced his way through, the roots too tight for him. When suddenly, right before his eyes, was a tool box. ‘This is it, I think,’ he thought, hopefully. He pulled the box out of its place and yanked his body out of the small cavity, breathing heavily as he slid down to sit with his back resting by the roots.

He looked at the box nervously, his thumb drumming on it and tongue licking his lips. He finally pushed himself to open it. When he did, he was greeted to the sight of old letters, drawings and other odds and ends that he vaguely remembered was done with or for his mother. There was a little chess piece inside. He remembered it distinctly being given to him by his mother and soon after, getting into chess. There were diary entries he didn’t need to read to know was regarding his mother and his heart hurt to think about. 

‘Was that all?’ He was disappointed. As he shook the box and rummaged through the contents his hand hit something smooth and round like a marble. Picking it up, it looked just like a marble. Only, a lot more ‘ _ beautiful’ _ .

He stared at it, holding it with both his hands. The marble glowed almost like a magic crystal. There were swirls of green and yellow and white and blue. They swirled inside like it had a mind of its own. He felt wet tracks on his cheeks and wiped them, distantly realizing he was crying. As he looked upon the tiny thing in his hands, he could only think one thing.

“ _ Hoshi no tama.” _

As Stiles plays with the marble in his hand, he remembers things he didn’t ever know happened.

Times where he’d sneak out of the house to come to this exact spot to talk to the fox with no name. Times when he’d spend listening to the  humorous tales the fox had in store for him. He’d sneak in tofu on the rare occasions his family decided to have Asian for dinner. Most times, he’d sneak in his father’s stash of  liquor for the fox to lap up. He’d even steal from the secret stash. 

He remembers times when he’d cry as he hid behind the roots only for a smooth voice to comfort him and a soft tail to cuddle. He remembered all the times he’d rant about school or his teachers. The times when the fox would give him pointers on how to focus better in class and in general. 

He remembered the first time they’d met.

_ He was cold and about to pass out when he heard a voice call out. _

_ “ _ _ Yo _ _ ,  _ _ boya _ _.” He snapped his neck to see who spoke only to kick himself mentally. He was alone. There was no way anyone else was down here in this miserable place. “It’s kind of rude to call our make-shift house a  _ _ miserable _ _ place, boy. Well, it’s more of a prison rather than a house.” _

_ “Who’s there,” he asked, his voice shaking with fear. There were tears in his eyes, threatening to fall over and his body trembled from the cold. The voice remained silent. _

_ “Well, I heard that humans of the new era liked riddles,” it finally spoke, ignoring his question. “Do you like riddles, boya?” _

_ “I don-don’t know.” Mischief huddled to try to stay warm. “I don’t think so.” _

_ “Sore  _ _ wa _ __ _ zan’nen _ _ da ta ne,” it sing- _ _ songed _ _ and Mischief was confused. He didn’t know what the spirit told him. “What has a neck but no head?” Mischief thought about it before answering immediately. _

_ “A bottle.” _

_ “ _ _ Subarashi _ _! De wa, what has teeth but does not bite?” _

_ “A comb,” Mischief answers almost immediately. _

_ “What gets bigger the more you take away?” _

_ “A hole.” _

_ “What gets wetter the more you dry?” _

_ “A towel.” _

_ “When’s a door not a door?” Mischief pauses. He tries to think hard but the room is getting colder. “Mischief,” the voice calls him sharply, scaring him. “Focus. You need to focus. Think, boy.” _

_ “Uh- ajar? When it’s ajar?” He answers nervously, looking down and fiddling with his fingers. Somehow, he didn’t like the idea of disappointing the voice.  _

_ “Good. That’s right,” it said soothingly. “Now, everyone has it but no one can lose it. What is it?” Stiles feels the tears drip down his cheeks. _

_ “I- I don’t know. I’m sorry,” he apologizes.  _

_ “Aren’t you tired of crying,” the voice asked him exasperatedly. Mischief wiped his eyes with trembling hands. The voice sighs and suddenly Stiles feels something brush against him and he stops shivering. _

_ “Who are you,” he asked, scared that it might be a ghost. _

_ “Well, we are a spirit. But we are no ghost,” it answered him. Its voice sounded like it was amused. He was relieved as it was better amused than angry. _

_ “That, we cannot deny,” it spoke with a chuckle. Mischief gasped.  _

_ “You can read my thoughts,” he exclaimed, shocked. The thing laughed. _

_ “It is one of our powers, yes.” Mischief became hopeful. _

_ “Then can you help me get out of here,” he pleaded. _

_ “Hm, well, we suppose we can,” it spoke with a drawl, “but why should we?” Mischief was taken aback. _

_ “Please,” he begged. “I’ll do anything!” _

_ “Will you now, boy?” _

_ “Yes!” _

_ “Then take us out of here with you.” Mischief pauses. _

_ “I don’t know how to do that,” he says truthfully. He worries that he can’t help the spirit and so it wouldn’t help him. _

_ “It’s simple. You simply need to give us a new home,” it explains. _

_ “Then that’s great! You can stay at my house,” he says excitedly. It laughs in reply. _

_ “No. No, boya. That is not what we meant by home.” Mischief is confused. _

_ “Then, what is?” He hears it sigh. _

_ “We guess we have to speak clearly, for a boy so young. We meant you have to let us use your body as a place to live.” _

_ “Why,” he asks, scratching his head and shaking the  _ _ ominous _ _ feeling he gets from those words.  _

_ “Because we need a body to live on this plane,” it explains. _

_ “Why? Aren’t you strong enough to live without a body?” He immediately regrets saying that, fearing he might anger it. _

_ “How rude,” it exclaims. “We’ll have you know; we are over a thousand years old and are very powerful!” If Mischief didn’t know any better, he’d think it was pouting. He found himself giggling and then shivering. He was feeling cold once again. _

_ The spirit was silent and Mischief feared he had angered it this time for sure.  _

_ “Let’s compromise then,” it finally spoke. “We shall help you out of here and you shall come visit us often.” _

_ “That’s it,” Mischief asked. _

_ “Only you must come. No one else. Are we clear?” _

_ “Yes,” he nodded enthusiastically. This would be fun. He then frowned. “What if I get lost?” _

_ “We will guide you in our fox form. When you enter the forest and are close enough, we shall guide you here.” _

_ Mischief agreed happily. “Deal!” _

_ He had later woken up to find that his father had searched for him the whole night only for him to be curled up on a tree stump, unconscious. _

That was how Stiles had met the fox first. It then turned out to be the best thing he had ever done. Long hours beneath the Nemeton, talking and playing. Mostly talking.

Spending years going into the woods just to find the same spot. The doors to the basement always open for him as he walked inside confidently. He remembered the times the fox told parts of his life. Somehow, he knew that the fox hid a lot from him. Things too dark and gloomy for a boy too young. A boy who was already trying to deal with the idea of a sick and dying mother.

The time when his mother crashed the jeep. How could he have forgotten that time? He was admitted into the hospital for a few days. When he came back, he tried apologizing to the fox for not visiting him the past few days. His words of apology were cut short as the fox grew large enough to be four times his size and curled around him. 

“ _ It’s okay,” they spoke softly, like Stiles was going to break. “We understand. You don’t need to explain anything. We will always be here for you, Mischief. _

_ Stiles broke down crying and clinging onto them as he was gently lulled into sleep. _

There was another time where Stiles noticed this small marble on its tail.

“ _ What’s that?” He tugged at it only for the fox to push him away in fake annoyance. He laughed. _

_ “That, dear boy, is the most important thing needed for our existence,” they explained. “It’s called a Hoshi no tama.” _

_ “Then why do you tie it to your tail?” _

_ “Well, that’s because we must keep it by our side at all times. At the very least, we need to keep it close by and safe.” _

_ The next day, Stiles came running with a tool box and showed the contents to the fox. _

_ “You could keep your Hoshi no  _ _ tama _ _ in this! So, the things precious to both of us will be kept safe. We could keep it inside the roots.”  _

For some reason, they had agreed. 

Stiles and the  nogitsune got along really well. Stiles would go to the basement in the woods almost every day and tell them anything and everything. They bickered quite a bit too. 

“ _ Human life is fickle, Stiles,” they told him as they sat upright Japanese style on the illusionary bed th _ _ ey had created. It was modelled after Stiles’ memory of his room. _ _ Stiles still felt happy as they called him his nickname even after all this time. It was definitely better than calling him ‘ _ _ Boya _ _ ’. He flopped on top of their lap. He looked up at the ditto version of himself talk, sitting a lot steadier than he ever could. “It’s gone before you know it.” _

_ “You know, I’m human too right,” Stiles retorts, scoffing. “Lydia is human. I’m human. She’s cute. I’m _ _.... _ _ moderately cute. She’s smart. I’m smart in other things. Did I tell you what I read about circumcision? See? We’re perfect for each other.” _

_ “We agree. She’s smart and reads twice the amount for her age. You struggle to concentrate on the book you read which has more pictures than is strictly acceptable. She has co-curricular activities. You pant your way through one exercise. She has quite a lot of friends. You have Scott. Surely, you both are star-crossed lovers.” _

_ “Laugh it up, chuckles,” Stiles huffed out. “Besides, I would have had more friends if it weren’t for you. I spend all my time here instead of going to participate in after-school stuff cause  _ someone  _ is clingy.” _

_ “Yes, Stiles. We are a foul fiend that keeps you here against your will. Woe be thy name.” _

_ “Hey! Don’t mock me. You’re possessive. Don’t lie to me.” _

_ “Us?” It snorts. “Well, we do possess people.” _

_ “Oh, shut up!” _

_ “We simply have no reason to be possessive over you, Stiles.” _

_ “Uh-uh. No. One mention of me doing something with Scott drives you up a wall. If I go home with him and don’t stop by your place, you get so  _ _ mope-y _ _ , I have to get one from dad’s stash.” _

_ “You promised to visit us often,” they explode, offended at his words. _

_ “Not  _ _ every day _ _ ,” he fights back. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. Lydia won’t notice me anyways.” _

_ Stiles frowns as he sits up cross legged, facing the other and put his face in his palms. He feels the ghost of a touch and turns to see a small white and black fox. It climbs up and sits on his lap. _

_ “Better?” They ask him and Stiles tries to stop himself from smiling but fails as he pets the fox on his laps. He nods. “Now, it’s time for your Japanese classes.” Stiles groans. _

_ “No,” he whines as the fox hops off his lap and pulls his bag over onto his lap. In the end, he ends up going through with his lessons. It was his wish to learn Japanese  _ _ anyways _ _. _

_ He’s writing his Kanji when he thinks of something. _

_ “Hey, why do you not have a name?” He tapped his pen on the book, thoughts going all over the place. _

_ “We simply don’t have one,” they replied. _

_ “Why?” They sighed. _

_ “We, nogitsunes were not given one.” _

_ “Nogitsunes?”  _

_ “Yes. We are not granted names because we do not follow the Fox God Inari, unlike other kitsunes. We are simply void. Stray. We feed off Chaos and strife and pain. We do not have a need for names. We simply have an insatiable hunger and dredge the undergrounds of human society. We have seen the darkest sides of humanity. We have contributed to it. We have seen such horrible things that you cannot even imagine. And we? We relish in it. We live as parasites. We live in numbers too large to be given names to. Sometimes, we are called field foxes. Sometimes, yako. Sometimes,  _ _ nogitsune _ _. But mostly, we are void.”  _

_ A chill went down Stiles’ spine. He knew that they were not the  _ _ nicest _ _. He knew they hid dark truths about themselves that he wasn’t told about. He didn’t know if he wanted to know either. His mouth opened as if he wanted to say something but then closed it again.  _

_ “It doesn’t matter, Stiles,” they tell him softly. The fox’s tail brushes his hand as they push their head under his hand, letting him pet them again. “You do not need to worry over this. We don’t need a name. We would rather lose our immortality and die rather than follow  _ Inari’s  _ path.” _

_ There was a pregnant pause as Stiles lets this information settle in.  _

_ “Do you need to follow Inari’s path to be given a name?” _

_ “What?” They are caught  _ _ off _ _ guard. _

_ “Do you need to follow the fox God’s path for a name? Can’t anyone else name you?” _

_ “We suppose,” they say hesitantly. Stiles beams as he sits up straight. _

_ “Then I’ll give you one,” he exclaims, happily. He was so  _ _ excited; _ _ he shook his legs. _

_ \------------------------------------------------------------ _

_ That led to days of thinking up names as he sat at home writing down names he liked and then scratching them out. He would stay awake some nights brainstorming for names. He didn’t tell Scott nor his father as this was something strictly between Nogitsune and him.  _

_ He drew a blank as he sat dejectedly scribbling random Kanji on his notebook. He vaguely remembered the Kanji for nogitsune. He wondered where the word originated from. His mind was full of Japanese words and the things they told him before. _

_ ‘Sometimes we are called field foxes. Sometimes,  _ _ yako _ _. Sometimes, nogitsune.’ _

_ He wrote the Kanji for nogitsune. _

_ ‘We are void. Stray.’ _

_ He wrote the hiragana for stray. He didn’t know the Kanji for that. He laughed as he realized that the word was used as prefixes to describe stray animals.  _

_ He decided on a name as he scribbled it down on his note below his lazy scrawling of another name. _

_ The next day, he waited impatiently for school to end as he ran to the woods, telling Scott an excuse as usual. As usual, a fox made itself known before him and they went to the room beneath the old tree stump. _

_ “From the way you are behaving, we can only assume something good happened,” they told him, amusement painting their words. They cast their illusion as usual and this time, took the form of Stiles and sat on top of the stump in a clear white room. Stiles excitedly shoved the open note to them.  _

_ “Read the name on the bottom,” he told them. He was shaking with excitement. They squint at the writings on the book in his hands. _

_ “Miguel,” they read out loud, giving him the poker face. _

_ “Not that,” Stiles told them, exasperated, pointing furiously at the book. “The one below that!” _

_ “Nora.” They look up at Stiles, face blank.  _

_ “Yeah! I mean, no. It’s pronounced like ‘no’ from  _ _ nogitsune _ _ and ‘ra’. I know, I know,” Stiles began sheepishly rubbing his neck. “It’s not the best of names. The name Nora apparently means Honour. When it’s written in Japanese, as a prefix, it means stray. But as a word, it means field. So, I thought it’d be perfect for you.” _

_ They didn’t say anything as they looked at the note quietly. _

_ “Well,” he asks again, getting nervous. “Do you like it?” _

_ Before Stiles could say a word more, they were on him, hugging tightly. Stiles smiled as they remained silent, hugging them back just as tight. _

_ “I’m guessing you liked it,” he taunted them. They simply burrowed their face deeper into his neck. He was proud of himself. It  _ was  _ a good name.  _

_ Nora. _

Not long after that, Stiles’ mother had died. As he sat alone in the hospital, holding his mother’s hand, he hoped his father could make it. He knew that wouldn’t happen. Perhaps, he should have told his mother about Nora. Perhaps he should have brought Nora with him. Let them possess him.

As he was guided outside of the room and his father finally made it, he couldn’t think of anything except Nora. That made him swim in guilt. 

After he had met Nora, he spent more and more time with them. After the crash, he was almost glad he could spend more time with them. If only he felt that way towards his mother. If only he had spent more time with his mother. His mother already hated him. No. That was the Dementia. She loved him. Didn’t she? 

But would she love him, if she had known that he’d rather spend time with a dark supernatural being that hurt people rather than with her?

It hurt more than it should. Even if he cared for Nora. He didn’t deserve to meet them. He deserved nothing.

And as he went home, he took out all the Japanese notes and all the things he had in memory of the times they spent together, and threw it out into the trashcan. He never looked back. Soon, he repressed his memories too.

That is, until now, as he wakes up to find a familiar face looking at his in the same white room on the same tree stump. Sitting before him was Nora and before them, was a table and a game of Go that he didn’t realize he was already playing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Hoshi no tama - It's basically this thing that Kitsunes carry with them on their person. It's normally kept in their mouth or tied to their tail. It's sort of like their life source or where they get their powers from. It's like, suuuuper important to their existense.  
> Sore wa zan’nen da ta ne - That's a shame, isn't it (informal) (Google translate will kill you with this. Don't try it)  
> Subarashi - splendid  
> De wa - now then  
> yako - field fox/another name for nogitsunes
> 
> Okay so, 'Nora' is used as a prefix to indicate a particular animal or something is stray. Example: 'Noraneko' which means 'stray cat'; 'Noragami' which is an anime- just kidding, it means 'stray God'  
> Anyways, as a word, it means 'field'.   
> Apparently, in some other language, the name 'Nora' means 'Honour'  
> Basically I thought it made a lot of sense cause the Nogitsune, even in Canon, was obsessed with it's own honour. It would've been ironic.  
> Anyways, I enjoyed coming up with a name for them and I hope you guys liked it too!  
> I hope you guys loved this chapter!


	10. Forgiveness

Scott had lost sight of Stiles once Stiles began running after seeing something. Scott was panicking.

“Stiles,” he yelled. There was no answer. He ran trying to catch his best friend’s scent. Oddly, he couldn’t get any. He recalled the time when the trickster demon played with him. 

‘Oh, you really have to learn, Scott. You really have to learn not to trust a fox. They’re tricksters, they’ll fool you. They fool everyone,’ it had mocked him.

Scott shook his and transformed. It wasn’t going to trick him anymore. He roared and looked around with his other eyes. 

He ran.

Soon, he found himself at the clearing. There, at the centre of it all, was the  Nemeton . He shifted back and walked towards the basement doors that lay open. 

“Stiles,” he called out as he tried to move through the dilapidated room. There, in the far end, lay Stiles. Scott rushed towards his unconscious friend. Stiles was unharmed and holding onto a closed tool box. His face was tear stained and he was fast asleep. Scott didn’t have to check to know that the Lichtenberg figure on his back was long gone. He smiled with knitted eyebrows. 

“I hope you found it, Stiles,” Scott whispered and picked him up. 

Scott carried Stiles all the way to his jeep and drove towards his own house. The plan was going to be set in motion.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

“ Yo , boya,” Nora greeted him as they made their move. Stiles looked at the almost similar copy of himself sitting opposite to him and couldn’t believe it. After all this, he felt like he was dreaming.

“You are,” it replied looking at him as if they were bored.

“I told you not to call me that,” was all Stiles could blurt out. He lifted a piece to make his move. He cringed slightly as the next move the  nogitsune made showed his wasn’t the right one. Well, he wasn’t very good at Go anyways.

Nora simply snorted. As they placed their piece, they looked at him with a smile. Stiles knew though, the words unsaid behind that smile. 

“Yes. I remember you saying that. I never agreed to listen,” they said and Stiles made his next move. “Well? Have you found the answer?”

There were knots in Stiles’ stomach. He did this. He was the one who brought this upon himself. Upon them. Regret doesn’t cover what he felt at this very moment. He wanted to run away. To hide. But he felt that was too much of luxury for him. He was drowning and wasn’t sure if should ask for help or let himself be. A single tear made its way down his cheek.

“Nora,” he whispered. He shook his legs, hands clutching them tightly and watched them. Instead of saying anything, Nora simply played. Atari.

They watched the board intently.

“I’m going to win, Stiles. Soon. You will have no moves left,” they said instead.

“Not yet,” Stiles answered. He was crying. “I won’t lose yet.”

“Go is my game, Stiles” they said looking at him with too sharp a smile. “You are simply delaying the inevitable.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Oh?” They looked at him carefully, head tilted. The illusion shifted as Stiles once again found himself in the basement of Eichen house. Where he found himself once again tied to a bear trap, hypothermic and dying. They spoke once again. “You know, you suggested we play this game.”

Stiles remembered begging them to teach him to play the game. In turn, he taught them things too.

“No. That’s not me,” Stiles said instead as he shook his fist holding the coin, confidently. “I would’ve suggested chess.”

“Why?” They moved close to him. There was no more place for Stiles to move back. He wouldn’t have anyways. They held his jaw tightly as they snarled angrily. “Because it is your game? Because you wouldn’t lose anything? Well, look at this now, Stiles. You are about to lose  _ everything!” _

_ “Y _ ou don’t have to do this,” he gasped out. “You won’t like hurting me.”

“I am  nogitsune .  _ I am void.”  _ They slammed him on the pipes and the coin fell out of Stiles’ hand. “ **_ We feed off pain! _ ** We will make you suffer. We will watch as you lose everything and we will laugh as you die feeling nothing but grief and anger. We will win.”

“You won’t like to win,” Stiles panted. He looked earnestly at the dark eyes that glare at him. Their face softens as they let him go. They cup his cheeks so softly, and smiles down at him. 

“Oh, but we do,” they tell him, smiling sadistically. “We like hurting you. We enjoy it.”

“Yeah?” Stiles looks at them, knowing he’s probably in for a shit storm. He moves forward as Nora looks on, surprised. Before Stiles is at the Go table and he upsets all the coins from the table. He looked up at Nora with a wry smile and tears. “I forfeit.”

“No!” They roar and angrily push him down, pinning his shoulders down to the ground. Their eyes turn a shimmering silver. It looked too beautiful for Stiles not to  admire. “No , you are not allowed to forfeit! No! No! No!”

Stiles brings a hand up at touch their cheek. He smiles at them softly. Shit storm or not, this was where he belonged.

“I’m so sorry, Nora,” he finally says and the tears that fell made their way into his hair. “Gomene.”

Nora’s face contorts with anger as they try not to cry. Stiles rushes upward once their hold on him lessens and he kisses them. A searing kiss as he tries to put all his feelings into it. He holds them close, by the neck and messily kisses, desperately wanting tell them everything. Wanting to tell them what a single apology couldn’t convey. They could easily push him away and hurt him instead, they moan into the kiss. Their tears finally spill out as they kiss back, tugging at his hair. He groans at the feeling. 

They kiss for what seemed like hours, not wanting to pull away. Nora takes the initiative first. They pull back and Stiles whines at the loss before they pull his shirt off and follows suit. Stiles is shocked before he lifts a finger.

“Wait. Woah. I haven’t had gay sex before,” he warns, panicking slightly and leaning away.

“You haven’t had any sex, Stiles,” Nora comments as they push him onto the illusion of his bed in a room not unlike his own. They are smirking and it does a lot of things to Stiles even though they look almost identical to him. “You’re not even in reality.”

“Fair point,” he agrees, already winded as they begin kissing his neck. His pants are straining uncomfortably and he moans to every touch and kiss. “I am so  gonna wake up to morning wood.”

“We’ll make sure you don’t,” they provide helpfully. “Besides, we don’t like the idea of Scott seeing your dick.”

Stiles is both confused and oddly finding it adorable.

“Scott’s already seen my di-mmph,” his words are cut off as they kiss him once more. They growl and that alone does things to Stiles.

As they lie down, naked in bed, Stiles panting and Nora snickering at his very short limit, Stiles looks up at his room’s ceiling.

“What are you going to do now,” he asks turning to Nora.

“If you mean your little pack, then you already know we promised not to kill them.” Stiles turns to look at them, face solemn.

“That doesn’t mean you won’t hurt them. I know you’re still angry at Noshiko.”

“She trapped us under a tree for close to a century, Stiles,” they say quietly. Voice cold and unforgiving.

“That worked out for the best didn’t it?” Stiles kissed them on the cheek and put an arm over them. They looked at him with confliction before they finally made up their mind.

“How about this? If anyone involved, and that includes your pack, tries to harm us, we shall ruin  _ everyone.” _ They spoke with clear intent and it made shivers run down his spine.

“Deal.”

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

They opened their eyes to Scott’s house and the pack before him. They frown as they look at  Noshiko .

“Well, well, well,” they mock her. “What’s the plan this time, Noshiko? Did you fix the sword? Are you going to make your daughter stab us this time?” They tilt their head and relish in her anger.

“I am willing to put the past behind me, nogitsune,” she speaks sternly. “I hope you do as much as well.”

“ _ You  _ are willing to?” They ask incredulously. “ _ You?”  _ They try to move forward when they realize they can’t move. They look up to Scott who has worry clearly written in his eyes. They shift their eyes to see Deaton too. “ Kanima venom. Nice touch.”

They were angry. They wanted to rip all of their throats out but that would be breaking their promise to Stiles. They haven’t harmed them yet. They smile. That means they need to push them into doing so. They can feel Stiles pout at that somewh e r e i n t h e i r h e a d . It makes things a lot more enjoyable.

They look about to see who all are present. Noshiko, Scott, Deaton, Lydia, Allison, Isaac, and finally, one of the twins, Aiden.

This could work.

“Is it crowded in here or is just us?” They huff at the tense atmosphere. They like the tension though. “Are you all excited to see us?”

“Look,  nogitsune , we just want Stiles back.” It was Scott who spoke. They didn’t like him. They never liked him. But Stiles did.

“I never planned on giving Stiles,” they told him, voice light. They saw the hurt and confusion in his eyes and smiled. “Oh? He didn’t tell you, did he? I told him clearly. Once he remembers our name, he will belong to us. His everything becomes ours. Which means, this body is also ours.”

They could feel the shivers run down Scott’s spine and revelled in his reactions. He revelled in all of their reactions.  Noshiko turned to Scott.

“I told you that the  nogitsune isn’t the forgiving kind. I had called off the Oni once. There will not be a second.” She turned to Kira, “Kira, get your sword ready.”

“Wait! Mom!” Kira spoke in reply to the hasty decision. “We can’t just jump to conclusions.”

“And what if that is the ending to this story?” They taunted the pack. So much so that they could even feel Stiles laugh somewhere inside. “Stiles has forfeited the game. Which means, he has given up his will to continue the game.”

“Kira, listen to me,”  Noshiko continued on with her eyes on them. They wondered if her body was always so stiff. “You need to put your friend out of his misery.”

“Kira, don’t,” Scott warns with a hand before Kira. Kira herself was caught between the two and didn’t wish to draw her sword.

“Kira, do as you’re  told .”

“Kira, please don’t.”

“Are you going to stab us, little fox,” they ask Kira with amusement painting their words. “I suggest you try your best.”

“Don’t,” Scott warns, not getting what game the fox was playing. 

“And why shouldn’t she?” It was Aiden who spoke this time around. Nora was impressed. “That thing wearing Stiles’ skin has killed so many people. It led the hunters here to hunt me and my brother. Derek got hurt in the process too. If it weren’t for Argent, they’d be long dead. When it tells you that your friend is long gone, then that’s that. Kill it before it could kill more people.”

“You mean like you did,” Isaac asked stepping forward, his arms crossed as he glared at the twin.

“Why are you taking its side” Aiden asked thoroughly confused. “Didn’t it put you in the hospital with one of its schemes?”

“I remember. Thank you,” he replied sarcastically. “However, unlike you, I would want to try using my head for once. You have hurt me too, you haven’t seen me try killing you, anytime have you?”

“That’s different. You don’t understand what being an Omega means, do you? Sometimes, you have to get your hands bloody!”

“Sometimes,” Isaac says squinting at him. “Then, let me ask you. How many have you killed?”

“I don’t kill anymore,” Aiden states with a shake of his head.

“And that somehow changes things,” Lydia asked with a pout and acting like she was trying to understand his words. Aiden looked betrayed.

“Screw this,” he says pulling out his claws, “I’ll do it myself.”

He stalks towards Stiles only to be stopped by Scott who growls at him.

“No one’s touching Stiles,” he speaks in a baritone, voice being a promise of pain.

Nora had to agree that Stiles had picked a good friend.

“Boys,” Melissa finally steps in. “Stop this. We don’t know how Stiles is doing.”

“Your Stiles is no longer in control of his body,”  Noshiko retaliates. “There is no longer any way for him to come out of this unharmed if at all. We need to put an end to his existence so he is not used as a puppet for the nogitsune.”

“I’ll take my chances,” Melissa speaks up as she walks straight towards  Noshiko , hands folded and ready for anything.  Noshiko glares at her.

“This is what he wants,” Allison whispers before clutching her fists and looking straight up at everyone. “He wants you all to fight. Don’t you see? It’s all chaos.”

“Not exactly,” Nora says as they are slightly impressed. They can feel their legs. That was enough for them to move but as an added aid for Stiles, they sat quietly. They notice Deaton looking intently at them.

“Scott,” he speaks out, putting a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t have much time.”

“Indeed,” they agreed. “The sun is setting and we shall not sit here for that long. So, I must ask....  _ What is the plan, Scott?” _

_ “ _ We are going to talk,” Scott states. 

“That’s it?” Any respect they had for Scott, vanished as he spewed as much. “We are possessing your friend. We have killed plenty. We plan to kill more. And you wish to talk? Scott, you are quite the gullible leader, aren’t you? Where would you be without Stiles?”

“That’s just it,” Scott states as he moves closer to them and looks carefully. “Stiles, for some reason, trusts you. Or at the very least, wants to believe in you. He was so sure that there was something else to all of this other than the average bad guy that comes to Beacon Hills. So, if I treated you like any other supernatural entity that came here and was in the wrong, I would have done something about a lot of people here.” Aiden shifted uncomfortably in the background. Scott continued speaking. “Which is why I want to talk. Not to Stiles. Not about Stiles. I want to talk to you about you.”

‘Huh,” Nora thought. They had not expected this. “We accept.”

“Then come with me to the table. I know you can walk by now,” he told them as he walked in that direction. He didn’t turn to look if they were following. “Everyone else willing to stay has to follow Mom’s no fighting in the house rules.”

\-------------------------------------------------------------

In the end, Melissa had to go for the hospital and Aiden left for Derek’s loft. Somewhere, he knew that even without blood on his hands, he wouldn’t fit in with Scott’s pack. Ethan was right.

Deaton left with a quite word to Scott.

“If you need anything, make sure you call me,” he tells Scott, eyeing him with concern. 

“Don’t worry, it’ll be fine,” Scott reassures  him with a smile. Deaton pats him twice before he leaves too.

That left Allison, Lydia, Scott, Isaac, Kira and Noshiko at the table with the nogitsune. Somehow, it felt like the greatest joke was being told here.

Night fell and it was the second night without the presence of Onis.

The  nogitsune looked at all of them before his eyes settled on Scott, waiting for the pack’s Alpha to speak. He held his hands on the table and smiled at Scott. The smile still managed to unnerve Scott.

“Let’s start with the basics,” Scott began promptly. “What’s your name?”

“I have told you before. Nogitsune do not ha-”    
“Nora. Pronounced as ‘no’ from nogitsune and ‘ra’.” Noshiko’s words were cut short by the nogitsune. Scott nodded.

“What are your plans for us?” 

“We plan to ruin you all,” Nora states simply.

“And do you plan to carry on with your plans?” It was Lydia who spoke this time. Nora stays silent before answering.

“We do not intend do so unless the pact between Stiles and us is broken.”

“And that is?” 

“Are you asking us when the pact between Stiles and us will break? It is definitely when the details of the pact are broken when the pact between Stiles and us will break.” It was something Stiles would say and that made Scott’s heart ache. He shook the feeling. Stiles trusted Nora which means he should give it the benefit of the doubt. Besides, it had agreed to the conversation.

“She  means to ask what the pact entails,” Allison asks instead.

“The pact entails the details we had conversed before.”

“And what are those details,” Allison asked persistently as she tried her best not to bang her head on the table. Nora’s lips trembled trying not to laugh. They decided to stop here. Their game of Go had ended.

“We have promised Stiles that we shall not harm your pack and all involved unless they instigate the first strike.”

There was a silence where everyone felt relieved. Nora looked at  Noshiko as she  realized that letting the next generation take control proved to be the best decision. Nora believes that this in itself of was a cause for minor celebration as they see how dumbstruck she became.

“Wait, is that why you tried to get us to fight each other?” Isaac looked with awe and shock. He laughed once. “Doesn’t that go against your pact?”

“Does it though?” Nora looked at him mockingly yet satisfied that he figured it out. “We never harmed anyone. Besides, most of it was done by you, bakemonos, yourselves. You could hardly say we had a hand in it.”

“Wait.” Lydia began, confused. “You said that Stiles forfeit the game. He lost the game. Doesn’t that mean he has no right to claim anything?”

“Oh Lydia,” Nora spoke, with a fake whine, “do you  _ want  _ to see a dead body that bad?” She stayed silent and Nora smiled partially apologetic. “We granted him a favour.”

“Why?”  Noshiko finally asked.

“Because we like him.” They smiled at her too sharply to be called anything but a grimace. “Because Stiles did what you could not. He understood the game we played. Because even though he says he has forfeit, his pack is making their move and winning.  _ Without  _ offending the player. A feat you could not do.”

“It was not an offense. I won the game fair.”

“Then where are our two and a half points, Noshiko?” They ask her, coyly. She stays silent. They lean forward. “You were right. We are not one to forgive. But we favoured Stiles. Which is why this game has come to an end. However, we shall never forgive you.”

“You possessed Rhys. You killed many innocents,” she exploded weakly as her firm façade of integrity cracked. But that wasn’t enough. Nora was still livid.

“You asked for this. You asked it to rain down Chaos, strife and pain, and we  _ delivered. _ ” They made their point as they tapped on the table with their finger. “We may be twisted but we showed you what you wanted to see. And for what? For you to break our pact and set a mangy dog to attack us? For you to trap us under a tree for  _ years. _ If it wasn’t for Stiles, there would be no conversation. So, don’t you dare sit there with your silent hope for forgiveness just to save your daughter,  Noshiko , it’s pathetic!” Their every word was venom. The room too silent, the air too thick.

“Why couldn’t you have just possessed me,” she asked, face still unshakably calm except for the tear that betrayed it all. 

“Because we may be  nogitsune , but we are still kitsune. We do not harm other kitsune.” The words cut through even though whispered.

“And yet, by doing so you have hurt me more than you ever could,” she spoke quietly.

“It is as you say,  Noshiko . We are void. We know no attachments. We simply took the body of a dead one connected to you as a symbol to your pain. We did not know what we know now.”

“Then you must also know that the reason I sit here is for the same reason.”

Noshiko got up and looked at Nora. There was no more to be said. She walked out and as she walked  out; she spoke once more.

“You may not forgive me and I may not have it in me to ask for forgiveness but you are always welcome in my house for it is also my daughters. And as a friend of my daughters, I shall welcome you. You do not need to see me if you do not wish for it.”

With that, she walks out. 

There was odd feeling in the air where no one knew what to say. The  nogitsune sat quietly, as it looked at nothing in particular. There was no taunt, no smirk, no smiles. 

“So,” Kira finally broke the silence as she waved her phone in the air. “Should I call my Dad to bring the food or,” she said, voice fading out, awkwardly shrugging.

“Oh, yeah.”   
“Um-sure!”   
“Please do.”   
“So much food. Yes.” Four voices spoke at the same time. And so, Mr. Yukimura brought in as much food as he could fit in the car for dinner. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Gomene - sorry (informal. Just like Gomen)  
> Bakemono (s) - monster (s) (the 's' is English. Sorta like how they called the Oni as Onis in Canon)
> 
> Hey guys!  
> Okay, so this was my favourite chapter to write! I hope you'd enjoy it as well! <3


	11. Settling

The smell of delicious fried tofu and sake made its way to Nora as they couldn’t help but get excited. 

“Is that a tail wagging?” Allison whispers to Isaac, finding it strange to see a furry tail stick out of Stiles’ jeans. 

“I... Have  _ no  _ idea,” Isaac whispered back with just a tad bit mortification. 

Nora pointedly decided to ignore them as boxes and plates of food piled up on the table. And while they didn’t particularly like  Noshiko and by  extension , her husband, they did appreciate the food.

“Did you bring us a present,” they asked in a sing-song note. Ken smiled quite  nervously but with a hint of pride as he looked at the food. They knew he made it. It made them wonder if they had picked the right one.

Stiles seemed to mentally kick them.

“Yes. Um- this was all made for you. I hope it’s enough,” he says. He turns to the others. “I made some for you kids too.” 

The table was cluttered with food for the  nogitsune but somehow, they managed to get space to eat too.

“Hope that’s enough?” Kira whispered  incredulously only to get a stern look from her father. 

“Don’t forget Fall of 2009, Kira,” he reminded her softly. She looked  embarrassed enough for Scott to get extremely curious.

It wasn’t long before they were all digging into their food. With food came the feeling of relaxation. Nora felt themselves feel a lot less angry and more satisfied. Somewhere Stiles gave him the metal version of a smug face. They rolled their eyes mentally at him. It wasn’t as good as Chaos but it will do. And as the  nogitsune wiped out more than half, everyone was already asking them tons of questions.

“How did you meet Stiles,” Allison asked first. Nora immediately launched into the tale.

“Wait. Why did Stiles never tell me about you,” Scott asked feeling offended. He sat with a glass of Sake they thrust into their hands. They felt a smile creep up to know for once, Stiles did something they told him and even chose them over ‘best friend’ sitting across them. 

“Well, we did not want to risk unwanted attention.” They told him as Stiles huffed and yelled out in their mind.

‘They are lying to you, Scott. They are jealous. This little shit is as petty as they come.’ 

Yes. Scott needn’t hear that.

And so, the night wore on with questions. As it all came to a close, meals ate and Scott groaning over how they missed something very important when he and Stiles were young, piss drunk on Sake, Nora finally decided to settle it properly.

Well, they’ll do it tomorrow. Once they wake to the sight of everyone hungover and Ken in the kitchen with his face inside a bowl full of terribly made cake batter.

For now, they’ll sleep with their belly full of tofu, sake and all other goodness.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

They wake up quite late, to their disappointment. They blame it on Stiles who kept them in their dreams for far too long. It was still enjoyable to see all of them groan and Scott hold an ice pack to his head, feeling the after-effects. Ken, the cheater, had woken up first it seemed. As he walked about serving breakfast pancakes like a responsible adult, they hoped the batter from yesterday wasn’t used. Isaac, turned out to be the only one asleep. He clung onto Scott’s leg as he mumbled happily to himself on the floor.

It was at this moment when Nora decided to split Stiles and them apart and promptly fell to their knees, spilling out bandages from their mouth. From them emerged Stiles, covered in bandages and struggling to get out. They helped him out, smiling when they saw his face.

“Hey,” Stiles says licking his lips out of habit, pink lips opening slightly to pant softly and looking around. Everyone stared at the scene oddly.

“Gross,” Isaac exclaimed, finally awake and clearly disgusted. 

“Glad to see you too,” Stiles says with a half-smile. 

“Stiles,” Scott called out and Stiles turned to see his friend walk from his seat, over to him, slowly.

“Hey, Scottie,” Stiles says as he gets up to hug Scott.

“Oh man, I missed you.”

“It’s been a day. Scott. You’re being even more clingy than the ancient fox demon over here,” Stiles joked, moving away with a pat.

“We are not clingy,” they exclaimed, offended.

“Yeah, sure you’re not.” Stiles smiles slyly, side-eyeing the fox. They pout and sit down on the sofa they had slept on previously, crossing their legs.

Stiles turns to Allison and Lydia who simply stand shocked.

“Hey Allison,” he tells her as he hugs her too. He looks over her shoulder to smile softly at Kira. She nods at him with a smile of her own.

Before he could go hug Lydia, she walks as fast as her heeled legs could take her before she punched his arm, repeatedly.

“Do. You. Have. Any idea. How  _ stupid  _ you are?” She punctuates with every smack. Nora tries not to snicker.

“Ow, Lydia.  _ Ow,”  _ he exclaims trying to avoid her blows, face contorting with pain. “What the hell,  Lyds ,  that hurts. Ah!” He sees her crying and is surprised. “Hey...”

“I screamed, Stiles,” she sobbed out as she held her. “When you were in the hospital, getting the MRI, I screamed.”

“Hey, look at me.” He spoke softly. “Look at me,  Lyds . I’m fine.” And she does look. He hugs her close and she stops crying. 

Once she stops, he stalks up to the seated demon fox and grab them by the collars, leaning onto them. 

“Finally, I get to do this,” he breathes out and leans in to kiss Nora. They melt into it, running their fingers through his hair. Scott feels Kira brush his hand and holds hers. Without looking, he knows she’s looking at him. He holds her hand tighter with a smile. Allison looks at Scott who simply smiles and nods. She then turns to look at Isaac who’s beside her and lock their fingers together. Isaac looks down, surprised and looks up to a smiling Allison. He gives her a smile of his own. Lydia snorts with a funny look and a smirk, happy for Stiles. She wasn’t completely sure about Nora. None of them were. However, Lydia was sure they’ll get there. Right now, things seemed fine the way they were.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

“Go home, Sheriff,” Parish tells Noah with a smile as he walks out of the Sheriff’s office. Noah decided to take his advice. Maybe he needs to sleep and when he wakes up, everything would be over and Stiles would be fine. He took his jacket and looked around.

“I guess I’ll do that,” he began exhaling with the pain only a middle-aged man doing night duty would know of. “Ah. If I could just find my keys.”

“In your coffee cup.” Noah turns to see his son leaning by the door beside Scott. He points towards the cup on his table. “You always drop ‘ em in your empty cup.”

He turns to see Scott nod and that was enough for him to stride towards his son. Stiles walked into the open arms as he hugged him.

“Oh,” he chuckles, happy to see Stiles finally alright. 

“Hey Dad.” And it takes all of Noah’s willpower not to cry over this. 

When they pull away from the hug, he turns to look at Scott. Scott had walked over to pick up the keys from the coffee cup.

“Is it over?” Noah asks the kid.

“Not yet,” he said cryptically and looked at Stiles. Noah looked at his son who suddenly seemed nervous. He was confused.

“What do you mean?” He doesn’t know who to look at - Scott or Stiles. Scott motions to Stiles to get on with something and so he looks at Stiles with folded arms, waiting.

Uh- Dad,” Stiles begins nervously as he makes animated gestures with his hands. “There’s something you need to know and you are probably not going to like it.”

“And what am I not going to like?” ‘This ought to be good,’ he thinks.

“Nora,” he calls out peeking outside of Noah’s office and that’s when he notices someone that looked almost identical to Stiles walk into his office. The Sheriff lost his restraint as he ran to shut the door behind the thing that looked like a sick and pale version of his son. He closed the blinds and finally turned to look at the three.

“Are you kidding me?” He rants exasperatedly. “Now the whole station is going to wonder if I have a secret other son. And from the looks of it, a son who I locked up in the basement.” He turns to address the three teens standing before him. Well, two teens and one immortal being. He brings his hands to his lips, trying to figure out what happened. He clearly lacked imagination.

“So, Dad,” Stiles began scratching his ear and pointing vaguely at his Doppelgänger. “This is Nora. They are the Nogitsune that’s been plaguing my mind in more ways than one. They have decided to behave so no need to worry about looking for a body.” His voice started carefully before ending too rapidly.

The cog wheels in Noah’s brains stopped working. The ‘ nogitsune ’, or Nora, in question simply looked at him with a poker face. He was an Officer and he knew he could never crack this nut.

“So, mind telling me why he looks like you? Or why he isn’t, I don’t know, locked away?”

“We have already been to Supernatural prison. It didn’t agree with us. So, we broke out.” Noah didn’t know how to comprehend this information. So, he turned to the one who normally explained things to him.

“There’s a Supernatural prison?” He looked at Stiles as he rubbed his forehead. One of these days, he’s going to see a Dragon crawl out of a space ship and he wouldn’t bat an eyelid. 

“Uhh,” Stiles dragged his words squinting before shrugging and patting Noah’s chest. “Let’s say it does.”

Scott looked like he was having too much fun with this. ‘Nora’ seemed to maintain their poker face. It was odd seeing  _ any  _ version of his son  _ not _ bumble around.

“That’s not the point.” Stiles shook his head and put an arm around Nora’s shoulders. “Dad, meet the person who drank your beer as a kid, my possessor and demon fox extraordinaire.”

The Sheriff’s eyes scrunched as he tried to make sense of all this. He didn’t believe his ears. This was Stiles. Logical, paranoid-to-a-fault Stiles that decided to get his strings tied to a supernatural entity that defied all logic and killed who knows how many. He looked between Stiles and Scott. Scott was the responsible one. Why didn’t he say anything against this? That’s when a particular bit of information caught his attention. 

“Wait. What do you mean drink my beer as a kid?” And so, Stiles launched into the narrative of how he met Nora and what induced Nora to do what they had.

Sheriff Stilinski knew he’d need aspirin by the end of this. He finally took a proper look at his son’s past tormentor and current lover. They simply looked on at him. It unnerved him. This was the creature that caught his son’s fancy? And it wasn’t just any passing fancy. He knew how Stiles used to look at Lydia. He knew that Stiles loved her to a large extent growing up. But, as he looked at his son now, Noah couldn’t help but think of Claudia and that scared him. It also made him happy for Stiles.

“So, you’re telling me  _ Nora _ ,” he pointed at them with both his hands folded, “was the one who saved you when you were trapped in that basement.”

“Yes,” Stiles nodded, sucking in his lips as he knew he wouldn’t like where this is going to go.

“And they are also the one responsible for the injury of five officers, one dead, your wounded coach, injuring Isaac Lahey, the injury of Agent McCall-”   
“Actually, that wasn’t their fault. It was the Oni,” Scott intervened and shut up immediately with one look from the Sheriff.    
“-the terrorizing of a high school full of kids, enlisting the help of a serial killer to torment and attempt killing another high schooler. Am I getting this right?” Stiles and Scott looked at each other and stayed quiet. Stiles held Nora’s hand tightly and it didn’t go unnoticed by the Sheriff.

“Not to mention the torment he caused not just you, Stiles, but me as a father. Do you want me to accept this?” He continued, furious as he remembered the staunch fear that he felt as his son was losing his mind right before him and not being able to do anything to help. “Do you want me to smile and pat you on the back for making peace with my son?” He addressed the entity now. “Do you want me to forget the deeds you did? I know for a fact that I can’t arrest you but that’s damn well what you deserve!” 

“You believe there still exists a line?” Nora finally spoke. They did not move, but Stiles could feel them tighten their grip on his hand and the shadow of a tail behind them. He saw them curl a fist into a tight ball behind their back as a tick.

“What?” The Sheriff was confused. ‘What was it playing at?’

“I mean just that. You believe that there is a line that one needs to draw but the line that’s drawn do not cater to the Supernatural.”

“Of course, it does,” he exclaimed scrunching up his face in a show of the obvious. He points at Scott. “Look at him. He’s not gone on a killing spree. And  so has Kira and she’s one of your kind, isn’t she? So have many others.”

“You have met but a few creatures. A werewolf is but a wild dog that was tamed. The banshee is but the string that connects life and death. The Coyote is the same as the wolf. The kitsune are the same. Yet we are different. What will you do if you see a starving wendigo eating someone, Sheriff? Do you condemn its existence? And what about a siren? Perhaps you did not notice too busy ‘drawing your line’ but there was a  Darach here that did the same as us but for a more superficial reason. While we fed, she lusted after power. Where was the law then? There were a pack of Alpha werewolves that killed innocent children. Two runs freely as of now, right here, in Beacon Hills. Why are they not arrested? The Argents have killed plenty good and bad on their own free will in the name of ‘hunting’. Is vigilante not still a concept that goes against your law? Perhaps you have forgotten a certain Kate Argent. Peter Hale. Notorious for tormenting a poor high schooler for ages before finally attempting to kill her. He had also transformed the life of a pitiful child, throwing him into the unknown. Meanwhile, that child ensures that what happened to him does not happen to anyone else in his town. He does more for this town than the law ever could.” 

The Sheriff was forced to look at the truth laid before him. He knew what he said were excuses, solid ones, but excuses nonetheless. However, this was  _ Stiles  _ they were talking about. He leaned heavily on the table only to lift his head as the  nogitsune spoke once more. 

“What you say have worth, Sheriff, but being too rigid isn’t to your benefit either. We do not ask you to condone what we have done. We simply want you to know that that was how we lived life before Stiles came into our life. Stiles, like any other supernatural creature needs, is our anchor. Him having gone once brought Chaos of this measure. We ask that you do not take him away from us.” Noah looks hesitantly at the  nogitsune . “Please.” They beg. Stiles looks at them, surprised. Noah caves.

“I will agree on one condition,” he says warningly with a finger raised. “Hurt my son again, and you will hope to God that you get trapped under that damn tree stump again.” They smile and bow their head slightly. 

“We will make sure to uphold that rule.”

“I’m definitely done for the day,” Sheriff states as he takes the keys from Scott’s hands and opens the door to his office. “Make sure you don’t let anyone see you, Nora.” He then pulls Stiles aside and looks at him carefully.

“Dad-”   
“Don’t let them walk all over you, alright?” Noah tells him with a pat and Stiles gives him a smile and a nod. “That’s my boy.” He turns to eye Nora and then, with a nod to Scott, he leaves. Stiles physically falls to the ground and lies there.

“I think I’m done for the day too,” he groans. Scott smiles at him as Nora squats beside him, tilting their head curiously.

“I guess you are.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aight!  
> We're almost close to the ending.  
> I gotta say, I struggled writing this one. Mostly because I can't write fluff for the life of me. So, I just went with the flow. Went with the mood. I tried making the whole Sheriff and Nora meeting a lot funnier but I just couldn't do it. It felt off. I mean, this made more sense so I abandoned trying to make it funny and/or fluffy.
> 
> Welp! Hope you guys liked it!


	12. Loose ends and Endings

As Scott walked into school, he realized something. Nora was right. No matter what happened or no matter how much he tried to deny the things that made him what he is, no matter how much they all try to pretend to be human, they were not. They were all entities that defied human laws and logic. But what they could do was keep their humanity. They all needed an anchor. It could be someone they love...

Out of the corners of his eyes he saw Isaac and Allison talking. Isaac was tilting his head towards Allison and smiling. She was smiling too. She reached out to twine their hands together. Some part of him still hurt seeing that but it was okay. As he saw Kira stumbling out of Mr. Yukimura’s room, groaning and frowning, still talking to him, he knew it was okay.

… Some be their own anchor.

He sees Lydia talking to Aiden, explaining to him why he should try just a bit harder instead of leaving town. He could hear it.

“Lydia,” Aiden brought her attention to his words, smiling, “it’s not about putting in effort. Scott’s pack is just not for Ethan and I. Besides, I know for a fact that this place is a Beacon for supernatural beings. I don’t want to be the reason some other hunter or pissed off being comes here and creates problems.”

“And I’m telling you we’re fine. We can handle it.”

“Lydia, you already broke up with me. Why are you making me stay?” He leaned on the locker beside hers and continued to smile.

“I’m just saying,” she dragged her words slowly, meaningfully, “that staying here would help you learn to blend in with normal people better.” 

She turned from picking her books from her locker to look at him carefully. She was worried no matter what happened or what she said.

“I’ll learn that on the road. I’ll remember what you told me.”

“Will that be enough?” She asked, sharply. He smiled and stood up straight.

“Goodbye Lydia. Thanks for everything.” She gave him a tight smile before putting her arms around him as they kiss goodbye.

Beside the stairway Ethan and Danny are talking. Ethan smiling, taken-aback but still smiling. They end up kissing too.

Scott looks at Kira huff exasperatedly then smile as she sees him. He meets her halfway and kisses her, holding her waist.

“Hey.” She greets him smiling. It makes butterflies flutter in Scott’s stomach and he gives her a smile of his own.

“Hey.”

She then frowns as she looks at him.

“Did you know about this?” She tugs the bottom of his shirt in a nervous habit Scott doesn’t think she realizes she has.

“Know about what?”

“Alright. Listen up you two,” Coach  Finstock’s voice booms as he makes his way down the stairs. Behind him is Malia, who turns and smiles at Lydia. And another Kira? “I don’t know how you’re going to get along, but I expect you both to put in effort to uphold the honour of this school. And me! Especially me. Make me proud! Greenberg sure isn’t. Well, no one is but moving on. Here we have the hallway. You’ve been here before.” He leans on the staircase and looks at the sea of students. “Look at all these disappointments. It’s like looking at your ex-girlfriend’s version of a vegan hotdog. Who even eats vegan hotdogs?” He walks on with the two trailing behind him. The other Kira looks at Scott and smirks.

“No,” he echoes slowly, realizing what this meant. He looked at Kira who was nodding her head, as she hung it. “No.” He repeated in disbelief.

“Hey Scottie! I see you’ve met Kira’s twin,” Stiles smiled coyly at him, patting his shoulder and putting an arm around him. Scott looked at Stiles give him the classic Stiles’ smile that meant he’s up to no good.

“You know what’s the best part?” Stiles is trying his best to not grin as they walk to class. “This means Nora can create illusions of us any time we skip and no one’s the wiser.”

Scott thinks about it and shrugs. That was a good deal.

“Scott,” Kira warns him. “No. That’s an abuse of power. Don’t let Nora do that.”

“But we do need the attendance.” Scott thinks Stiles makes a valid point.

Kira stops walking as Stiles goes on about the pros to Scott as she reels from Scott’s decision.

“I am  _ so  _ not  gonna hear the end of this from Mom.” She runs to catch up. 

\-------------------------------------------------------

All in all, Scott thinks things ended up better than he expected. As he sees Stiles make out with definitely-not-Kira in school, he’s genuinely happy for him. Lydia seems to be teaching Malia the ropes. Stiles and Nora helped. Who knew Stiles would become Malia’s anchor? Well, Stiles was just good at things like that. He remembered all the times Stiles was there for him too. 

The Argents along with Isaac had decided on leaving for Paris. It hurt to see Allison leave but he will get through it.

‘Love happens more than once, Sweetie. And it’ll be just as amazing as the first time. And maybe just as painful.’

Looking at Kira, he couldn’t help but agree. He really loved her. 

Watching Isaac vacate his room in Scott’s house felt off. Like a part of him was going to snap away. Like a string being cut off. It hurt too much. 

Derek had made arrangements for the twins to leave safely just as he had done for Cora; parting with them with wise words and a toothy smile. Scott smiled too as he waved goodbye. He would miss them. He had always known they were the results of unfortunate circumstances and he sympathized. Them leaving was not something Scott thought they’d do and he hoped for the best for them.

In other news, the Sheriff was saved from impeachment by the very man who put him there in the first place. His father. He had also decided to stay, surprising Scott more than ever before. After fighting and finally knowing the truth, he wasn’t going to forgive him that soon. But seeing him every day, as infuriating as it was, made him feel happy knowing his father was trying at least now.

When the pack, or what was left of it, said goodbye to Allison, Argent and Isaac, Nora had told him this-

“Springs coming.” 

He knew now what that meant. As he looked at Stiles, Kira, Lydia, Malia, even Nora, he was happy. This wasn’t in anyway the ending. There would always be something else that’s going to come. There will always be some sort of threat and when that time comes, he knew his pack would support him in protecting their town. 

Right now, though? He had his pack and school’s begun. He hears the bell ring.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Right! Conclusions....  
> It's been real fun!  
> I tried going for a Teen-Wolf-Season-end-esque ending.   
> Don't know if it worked but yeet!  
> Don't forget to drop a kudos if you liked it! <3


	13. Epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~Last chapterrrrr~~~~~~~  
> <3  
> <3  
> <3

The cries of the baby woke Nora up first. They didn’t need sleep but, the concept of sleep was quite exemplary for them to pass up on. Besides, it meant meeting Stiles without the baby in the picture. Though, recently, they both have silently agreed upon just going the fuck to sleep. The reason was the little demonic ball of unending energy that cried from the other room right now. They swear it isn’t a coincidence that it is currently 3:00 in the morning. 

“Stiles,” they moaned out as they tap said person repeatedly. “Get up. The demo-the baby is awake.” Stiles stayed dead to the world. “Stiles,” they whined urgently. 

As the love of their life groaned and mumbled while drooling onto what they could only assume was a picture book that had more things on it than pictures, they decided that perhaps kicking Stiles was the best thing they could do right now. No one would be the wiser. It cannot be considered as domestic abuse if he willingly put his plump bottoms right beside their foot, was it? 

The wails were the only reason Nora decided that this could wait. They picked up the first baby that hung half out of their shared bed, head on the picture book on the floor and placed him carefully on the bed. They kiss him once and smile when he sees Stiles mumble incoherently in his sleep. Ever the  Casanova .

They then walk into the baby room to deal with the other baby. They pick her up from her cradle. 

She looked just like Stiles. Her eyes were Silver though. She was Kitsune. They could feel it. They wondered what had upset her. Well, there were many things that upset her. She was, after all, a Seishin kitsune. They cooed at her, showing her illusions she seemed to love. They smiled at her. Normally, other beings with inclusion to kitsune as children seemed to hate being around them. It was their aura. They were still  nogitsune after all. It surprised them every time this child smiled at them though. It was a miracle they never dared hope for, feeling satisfied with just Stiles by their side. 

So, as they laid their precious daughter down when she fell asleep once more, they kissed her goodnight and made sure she had a good dream and sat on the armchair beside her. 

“You’re doing this whole parenting thing way better than me,” Stiles complained in a whisper as he sat on their lap, arms and legs wrapped around them like a koala. “It’s not fair.”

“Well, we gave birth to her. So, we assume that played a major role,” they teased him with a kiss behind his ear.

“Oh no. You know that’s bull. Don’t throw that card on me,” Stiles mumbled by their ear as he yawned once more.

“Then perhaps it came from taking care of you through the years,” he taunted. Stiles bit their ear in retaliation. They bit back a moan and felt Stiles grinning on his neck. “Cheeky fool.”

“Point one for Stiles,” he giggled. They both knew in any other circumstance, Nora would win, but neither were willing to take their chances with the baby in the room.

“She never ceases to amaze me,” they tell him instead. Stiles hums in agreement. “I have never seen another one so small as her who do not run or cry at the sight of me. Yet she  _ smiles.” _

_ “ _ Well, you  _ are _ her Mom,” Stiles sasses. They pinch his waist. “Ow! Okay. Don’t wake her up. Besides, I never feared you as a kid. I actively braved Coyote infested woods to find you almost every day.”

“You are different, Stiles. You are an idiot.”

“Hey! I have feelings.”

“ _ Hai _ .  _ Hai _ . You’re lucky to have married me. No one else could deal with my idiot.” They hid their smile behind a bite to Stiles’ nape. He tries to bite his hand to cover the moan.

“Bakagitsune,” he hisses, blushing. They chuckle.

“Point one for us,” they comment. They both end up chuckling softly but stop when the baby whines. She stops immediately and they both sigh in relief.

“I love the crap out of her but God, I feel like she’s more difficult to deal with than all our missions. That’s including all the things that happened in high school,” Stiles whispers.

“I agree.”

They peak at her crib. She sleeps with drool leaking out and isn’t that a familiar sight?

Nora smiles. Their child. Claudia. She was going to be the strongest, bravest, smartest child they have ever seen. They kiss Stiles passionately. Thankful for the sight he has given them after all those terrible centuries of chaos and pain. They cannot change their nature, but they have an anchor who makes them wield it better. 

In all the lore about kitsunes, it’s never been about seduction and the ruin of families. It was always about romance. Perhaps the  yako were even worse for their nature, however, in the end, all kitsunes were the same.

As they watched Claudia sleep in her cradle and hear Stiles’ soft snores as he slept in their arms, they were happy. They were no longer a  Noragitsune . They were Nora.

Owari.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation:  
> Seishin - Spirit Kitsune  
> Hai hai - yes yes  
> Bakagitsune - Idiot Kitsune (It's not an actual word. I combined Baka (idiot) and Kitsune to make the word)  
> Noragitsune - Stray Kitsune (Same thing as before. Also, I felt like that possibly seemed like the root to Nogitsune... I'm probably wrong but I used it anyways)  
> Owari - End
> 
> That's all folks! What's in a name ends here.  
> I might add some one-shots or a sequel!   
> This fic was posted in one go because I, tbh, procrastinate a helluva lot. As a reader, I know you guys wouldn't like incomplete works or waiting for long so I went ahead and posted the whole thing.   
> As for the ship, I know it's a rare pairing. I honestly can't make up my mind on who to ship Stiles with. He's so goddamn cuuuute! And relatable as a person who has ADHD (well, a subtype), I loved how they portrayed it. Which is also why I just haddd to make Stiles bisexual (or something on that lines)!  
> Well, hope you guys loved this fic!  
> Love you guys!  
> Don't forget to drop a kudos if you liked the work.   
> Love,  
> Sailingdreameater <3


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